Faintest, Slimmest, Wildest Chance
by keeptheotherone
Summary: Harry left Ginny to keep her safe, but Hogwarts during Voldemort's reign was anything but. Although they both survived, each bears scars from their year apart. Ending a war and the death of a brother don't make for an easy romance, but as long as there is the faintest, slimmest, wildest chance... The Weasleys gained and lost a member the same night. Will they ever be whole again?
1. Prelude

A/N: IT'S HERE! At long last, and with great pride and excitement, I present the first installment of the Eighth Year fic :D There will be two, maybe three stories covering the first year after the war. This one runs through the end of summer. Since the prologue is short, I will update again later today, but in general expect one chapter every Wednesday. As you can hopefully tell from the summary (I _hate_ that length restriction!), I will focus not only on Harry and Ginny's relationship, but also on the Weasleys' recovery. Expect the usual cast of characters plus a surprise or two. Also, in this chapter I deviate slightly from "traditional" canon in one instance, but I could find nothing to contradict my idea and thought it would be interesting to explore. Just so you know that I know it's not the usual ;)

I do not own Harry Potter, his friends, enemies, future family, Hogwarts, its inhabitants, the Burrow, or anything else invented by J.K. Rowling. And...

DISCLAIMER: THIS IS A LEGITIMATELY MATURE-RATED STORY! Unlike my other M-rated fics, it is not rated for dialogue, or innuendo, or implied sex. Unlike some of my edgier teen stuff, it is not a paragraph here or there that can be skipped. What this story is rated for is _actual_ sex, a smattering of language (hello—Weasley boys!), alcohol abuse, references to violence (including sexual assault), and themes of death, depression, and suicide. If you are underage (or this is simply not your cup of tea), but you are interested in the plot, PM me. I will consider revamping the sex scenes if I get several requests, but I cannot adjust for the other warnings because they permeate the entire story. Okay? All right.

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_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_May 2, 1998_

Minerva McGonagall surveyed the Great Hall. She had just replaced the tables, but everyone still stood in groups. A long line wove from the center of the room towards the front and curved beneath the windows as everyone waited to speak to Harry.

Harry. The man who had defeated Lord Voldemort, permanently this time, right in this very room, just a short while ago. She could no longer see him, surrounded as he was by jubilant and grateful admirers, but she didn't really need to. Messy black hair, slim build, neither tall nor short; just like his father. Sometimes she would get a glimpse of Harry in the hallways and think, just for a heartbeat, it was James. She sighed. She remembered receiving the news of James's and Lily's deaths, Harry's survival, Voldemort's retreat. She remembered traveling in her Animagus form to Privet Drive, sitting on the wall outside, watching Harry's family. Meeting Dumbledore—

Minerva pressed a hand to her chest, hardly realizing she was doing it. Nearly a year later, the death of her long-time friend and colleague remained a hollow ache. Turning away from the crowd in front of her, she searched for something to distract her from the memory of Dumbledore's murder. Her eyes fell on the platform that normally housed the head table. Its table was still gone, replaced with rows of wounded waiting to be evacuated to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. So many pupils. Despite the efforts of the Order of the Phoenix, despite her efforts, it had happened again. War, curses, death, but this time, it involved the children. Death Eaters teaching at Hogwarts! She had done her best to protect her pupils this last year despite being thwarted at every turn by Severus Snape (Minerva refused to think of the wizard who murdered Albus as Headmaster), but she had failed. Ginny Weasley, Neville Longbottom, and Luna Lovegood sent into the Forbidden Forest at the full moon. First years locked in the dungeons. Virtually all her Gryffindors (and not a few Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs) claiming they had tripped, or walked into doors, or fallen down stairs. The Muggle-born pupils gone, disappeared.

So many pupils. Lavender Brown, attacked by a werewolf. Colin Creevey … she had ordered Dennis to go home, but there had been nothing she could do about seventeen-year-old Colin, and now he was dead. Fred Weasley— funny, sweet, maddening Fred, only a few places over. George with a cursed-off ear, Bill attacked by a werewolf, Ginny and her experience in the Chamber of Secrets. Nymphadora, her baby boy only weeks old. Remus, former pupil and fellow teacher, lying by his wife's side. It was the Potters all over again, mother and father dead, baby boy orphaned. Alice, Frank, Sirius … the Prewetts, the McKinnons, the Bones…. The platform blurred, grayed. Too many. Two wars was two too many, but it was over. Minerva took a deep breath and wiped her eyes. They had done it, she and Dumbledore and Kingsley and all the Weasleys and every member of the Order, past and present. Every pupil who stood up to the Carrows—

The Carrows! She had completely forgotten. She glanced round for a Ravenclaw.

"Miss Chang!" Cho Chang had finished Hogwarts last year, but no matter. Entering Ravenclaw Tower required the answer to a question, not a password that would be known only by the current pupils.

The dark-haired beauty hurried over. "What is it, Professor? Are you hurt?"

Minerva followed the young woman's gaze to where her right arm dangled uselessly at her side. Her shoulder didn't hurt much as long as she didn't move it. She waved her other hand impatiently. "No, no. The Carrows are floating in a net in your common room. Find an Auror and take them up to Ravenclaw Tower so they can be taken into custody."

She gaped at her. "Floating in— _my_ common room?"

"Now, Miss Chang!"

"Yes, Professor."

The Carrows. Oh, how Minerva hated them. She hadn't known it was possible to hate someone that much. And Potter; she would never forget the shock of seeing Harry Potter materialize out of thin air, and in the Ravenclaw common room of all places. And the curse. There was no denying it was well-deserved, but on her behalf? Harry had been so indignant, as if being spit at were the worst that could happen. She supposed it was a good thing, in more ways than one, that he hadn't been here at Hogwarts this year. Goodness knows, she'd had a hard enough time trying to restrain Miss Weasley and Longbottom.

There was Neville Longbottom, surrounded by a cluster of admiring pupils. Minerva felt a surge of pride and satisfaction. Her Gryffindors had done themselves proud, every one of them. She searched for the three, Potter, Weasley, and Granger, but saw only two, walking out of the Great Hall with a Harry-sized gap between them. It was worth it to see Voldemort dead on the floor and Harry still standing. The last year, the last _thirty_ years. Fighting, suffering, hiding, grieving, resisting; it was worth it to give these pupils, and all her future pupils, and all her past pupils who had survived, the opportunity to live freely. Without fear or persecution. To build a life with hope and dreams and joy.

And she would help them build it, starting with four tables and some food.


	2. Chapter One

Harry Potter swung the Invisibility Cloak back over himself as he, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger descended the moving staircase from the Headmaster's office and made their way to Gryffindor Tower in silence. They turned down the Fat Lady's corridor and stopped at her empty portrait.

"Now what?" Ron said.

"I'm here, I'm here, I'm here," the Fat Lady said breathlessly, sliding into her frame. "Armando Dippet saw you leaving Professor Dumbledore's office—" Harry noticed she didn't say "Snape's office"— "and spread the word amongst all the portraits to tell me to get back here." She paused, panting. "It's true, then? You-Know-Who is dead?"

"As a doornail," Ron said. "Can we come in? We don't know the password."

The Fat Lady beamed at them. "Of course you can, of course, of course." She peered round Ron and Hermione. "I assume Mr. Potter is with you?"

Ron and Hermione said nothing.

The Fat Lady pouted. "Very well then," she said, and swung forward.

Harry held his breath as Ron and Hermione preceded him through the portrait hole, uncertain as to how much damage had been done this high in the castle.

But the common room was untouched. A few schoolbooks lay scattered on tables, sweet wrappers and bits of rubbish cluttered the floor and sofas, and last night's ashes remained in the fireplace grate. Since it was also deserted, Harry removed the Cloak.

"It looks smaller than I remember," he said.

"Me too," Ron said.

"I don't—" Hermione sniffed. "I'd forgotten how much I love this place."

Ron gave her a quick sideways hug. "We'll reminisce tomorrow. I'm knackered."

"I'm starving," Harry said.

"Why did we come up here then?" Ron said. "All the food's in the Great Hall."

"I was thinking … maybe Kreacher…."

An awkward silence fell, and Harry knew Ron and Hermione were thinking the same thing, wondering if Kreacher had made it through the Battle alive.

"Only one way to find out, mate," Ron said.

Harry took a deep breath. "Kreacher!"

The silence stretched. Ten seconds … fifteen … thirty…. Hermione's eyes filled with tears. Harry turned away. And then there was a loud _crack_.

"Yes, Master Harry?" Kreacher bowed and stood before them, his once-white loincloth gray with soot and his snout-like nose bandaged.

"Kreacher, what happened to you?" Hermione cried.

"Kreacher is running into a bad wizard. Winky is patching Kreacher up and is still tending the other elves in the storerooms."

"Winky is okay too?" Hermione said.

"Winky is fine, miss."

"Kreacher, we're starving. Do you think you could bring us some sandwiches and stuff from the kitchens?"

"At once, Master Harry," Kreacher said, and disappeared with another loud _crack._

The food disappeared almost as fast, with Harry, Ron, and Hermione eating their fill of sandwiches, fruit, and ice-cold pumpkin juice.

"Merlin, I've missed this place," Ron said, sitting back at last. Hermione leaned on his shoulder, eyes drooping.

"Let's go upstairs," Harry said. "I don't fancy being awakened when everyone does leave the Great Hall."

Ron roused Hermione, and they climbed the stairs to the last dormitory. Harry and Ron automatically headed for the beds that had been theirs, but they floated above the floor.

"What the—"

Hermione had her wand directed at the two beds, which were moving towards each other.

"I don't want to sleep alone," she said defensively. "Lavender is at St. Mungo's, and Parvati went with her. Please?"

Ron looked expectantly at Harry, who looked from Ron to Hermione and raised his brows. "You're not going to jump him again, are you?"

Hermione turned a bright shade of pink and began stammering. Harry grinned at both of them and pointed at Hermione. "You're in the middle."

She gave her wand one final flourish to join the mattresses into one and dove over the footboard onto the center of the bed. Grabbing Ron's pillow, she settled down and closed her eyes, still pink in the face. Harry crawled into bed from his side and felt the mattress dip as Ron did the same. Eyes closed, sleep descending like a curtain, he heard Ron whisper to Hermione, "Here, have some of my blanket," and knew no more.

()()()()

Bill Weasley sat with his family at the Gryffindor table. The survivors of the Battle of Hogwarts chatted and ate, celebrating their victory and the end of the war, but this section of the table was silent.

Fred was dead. _He's dead_, Bill repeated in his mind. _Fred is dead._ The words had an awful rhyme, a parody of their grave meaning. He had been repeating them ever since they had taken Fred into a side chamber with the other— the others, but it still seemed surreal. One of his brothers was dead. Bill looked up as Dad and George rejoined the table.

"They've taken— they've taken him away," Dad said huskily. "They will contact us in the next few days to schedule the— the service."

The funeral, he meant. Fleur squeezed Bill's hand. Ginny moved from Mum's shoulder, pulling George down beside her. He looked dreadful, pale, blank, eyes red with tears. Bill wanted to cry just looking at him. George, without Fred….

"There you are!"

Bill looked up again. A pretty brunette stood in jeans and a Quodpot t-shirt, her long hair falling out of a hasty ponytail. Dirt streaked across her face but she appeared uninjured, and she wore a wide smile that was fading fast. _She doesn't know._ Bill dreaded speaking the words out loud and hoped, childishly, that Mum or Dad would do it instead.

"Amy!" Charlie jumped up from the table and hugged her.

Bill stood too, accepting a hug from his ex-girlfriend. "What are you doing here?"

"I got Charlie's message, and I came to help. We got separated during the fighting, and I've been looking for y'all ever since it ended."

"I'm Fleur Weasley." It wasn't until Bill heard the crisp tones and turned to find his wife standing with her hand outstretched that he realized he was still holding onto Amy. He dropped her arm and stepped back, allowing the two witches to make their own introductions.

"Amy Green," she said, shaking Fleur's hand with an air of faint amusement. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Bill and I worked together in Egypt."

Fleur pursed her lips, but before she could say anything, Amy exclaimed, "No!"

Bill turned to see what had startled her and realized his little sister had come round the table to say hello.

"You can't be Ginny!" Amy said, even as she pulled the younger witch to her in an enthusiastic embrace before stepping back and holding her at arm's length. "See, I told you you'd grow into a beautiful woman."

Ginny, who had last seen Amy on her twelfth birthday, blushed. "Thanks. It's good to see you."

"You should see Ron," Percy said. "He's taller than Bill now."

"He is not," Bill said automatically, and Percy gave him a faint smile, which he returned. It was unbelievable that he could gain one brother and lose another in a matter of hours.

"Where is Ron?" Amy asked, looking round. "And Fred?"

All the Weasleys dropped their eyes, shifting uncomfortably.

"Oh, no," she whispered, placing her hand over her mouth. "Oh, no, they're not—" She looked first to Charlie, then Bill. "Please tell me they're not—"

"Ron is fine," Dad said quickly. "But Fred—" He swallowed. "Fred was killed."

Amy froze for one long moment. Then she stepped onto the bench, the table, and down the other side, taking Ginny's empty seat beside George and putting an arm round his shoulder. "I'm so sorry," she said. George managed a nod. "Gods, I— I'm so, so sorry." She turned to Mum. "Have you eaten?"

"What?"

"Food," Amy repeated. "Have you had any?" Without waiting for an answer, she pulled over a bowl of porridge, placed some on the plate in front of Mum, and added a slice of toast. "Eat a little something, and we'll find you a place to lie down."

Amy's actions seemed to break the spell of lethargy that had settled over all of them, and everyone began to load their plates as Amy summoned juice and tea from up the table.

"You were more than friends," Fleur said, stopping Bill before he could sit down.

He met her gaze squarely. "Yes, we were." They had run into this a few times before. Being six years older than his wife and marrying her when she was only twenty, he'd had more partners than she had.

"And Charlie?" Fleur asked, watching as Amy poured drinks and settled between Charlie and Ginny.

"They're just good friends, I think. Charlie recruited her into the Order the same summer I came home, and they've kept in touch since."

Fleur seated herself with a graceful twist, and Bill knew the subject was closed.

"I would like to lie down myself," she admitted. "Shall we go home after this?"

Bill hesitated. He didn't want to leave his parents or his siblings; truth be told, he didn't want to leave Hogwarts.

"Dad? Have there been any arrangements made for overnight guests?" It was nearly noon, but no one had slept in two days.

"The Aurors are taking the regular guest quarters. The staff is converting the extra rooms on the ground floor to guest rooms, and with the younger pupils gone, there is some room in the dormitories. Minerva has given us free use of Gryffindor Tower."

"Bill, I never slept in the dormitories when I was a pupil here," Fleur whispered. "I will have no place to go."

"Nonsense. We'll get you into Gryffindor Tower. You're a Weasley now."

She smiled up at him, and he leaned down to kiss her. She was one good thing that had come out of this miserable war, Fleur was.

()()()()

Ginny Weasley gave the Fat Lady the password and admitted her family to the Gryffindor common room. Unnoticed in the bustle as eight people, including Fleur and Amy, clamored through the portrait hole behind her, Ginny slipped up the stairs to the boys' dormitory. She hadn't seen Ron or Harry since right after Voldemort fell, and she wanted to make sure they were all right. She _needed_ to make sure they were all right, needed to know she had lost only one brother, not two; that Harry had really survived. She would check on the boys first and then Hermione before going to bed herself.

She should have known. They were all three together, asleep on their sides, facing the door with their wands in their hands. What had happened to these three over the last nine months that they not only slept with their wands, but kept them in hand? Predictably, Harry was closest to the door, the first line of defense to protect the other two. Ron and Hermione nestled together apart from him, and as she looked closer, Ginny smirked. Ron's arm was thrown over Hermione and curved against her chest, his hand cupped round one breast. This was too good of a photo op to pass up. She turned for the door, intent on finding Colin to take the picture for her, when the memory returned.

Colin Creevey, dead on the Great Hall floor, only a few bodies away from her brother Fred. Ginny stifled her sobs with her fist and ran headlong down the stairs.


	3. Chapter Two

A/N: I woke up last Wednesday to _twenty-one_ emails from y'all, plus another ten or so after I posted chapter one, and they've continued to trickle in over the course of the week. Thank you all so much! *beams* Knowing that others are so excited about this story is, well, exciting ;) Welcome to all the new followers, and especially to those of you who reviewed. Guest reviewers, I promise I approved your reviews, but they're not showing up for some reason :P If you'll sign in first, I can thank you personally! As wickedcml pointed out, this is the Camp NaNo fic I've talked about for … well, let's not talk about how long. My beta and I (shout-out to **vancabreuniter**!) have always called it Eighth Year, and I forgot that you guys might not recognize that nickname.

Story notes: The title is a quote from Harry's thoughts about Ginny in the Chamber of Secrets: "He couldn't not go, not now they had found the entrance to the Chamber, not if there was even the faintest, slimmest, wildest chance that Ginny might be alive." (Rowling, J. K. _Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. _Bloomsbury: London, 1998, p. 222.) The details of Ginny, Neville, and Luna's detention for stealing the sword of Gryffindor come from **A Call to Arms** by My Dear Professor McGonagall. I've said it before, I'll say it again— just go read (and review) that story right now. In addition to being well worth your time in itself, I'm going to refer to it a lot over the next few months. For those of you who haven't met Amy Green before, she first appeared in **Hidden Chambers and Unseen Monsters**. She also has a cameo in chapter nine of **One Big Happy Weasley Family**.

As I mentioned to a reviewer last week, I had forgotten how much was in these first few chapters. We're starting off with a bang, folks.

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Harry woke up alone. The curtains were drawn round Dean's and Seamus's beds, and the dormitory was pitch black. He'd slept through dinner. He made a brief stop in the bathroom and went downstairs, hoping Hermione would be in the common room and could give him a fresh change of clothes from her beaded bag.

Harry was surprised to see not just pupils in the common room. He recognized Seamus's mother talking to Mr. Weasley in a corner, and Bill and Percy sat at a nearby table. Ron greeted Harry from their favorite armchairs in front of the fire.

"Morning, mate."

"Morning?" Harry checked his watch. Ten after two. Morning it was.

Ron tossed him a Chocolate Frog. "I just woke up about half an hour ago myself."

"Where's Hermione?" Harry said, swallowing the Frog in two bites and reaching for another.

"Bill said she got up a little after eleven and went to check on Ginny."

Without conscious thought, Harry's head swiveled to the entrance to the girls' dormitories. _Ginny._ After months of watching her dot on the Marauder's Map, after missing her so badly it was like a stomachache, Ginny was right here, only a few feet away. He suddenly wished he had forgone the Chocolate Frogs, which were behaving more like Peppermint Toads the way they hopped round his stomach.

"Harry? Harry!"

"Huh? What?"

Ron gave him a pointed look. Harry picked up his Chocolate Frog card just for something to do.

"So, what next?" Ron said.

Harry dropped Ignatia Wildsmith and sighed. "No idea. Think McGonagall would let me stay here for a while?"

Ron frowned. "Why would you want to do that?"

Harry didn't meet his gaze. He had been so focused on getting the Horcruxes, on destroying Voldemort, that he had not considered the practicalities of what he would do if he managed to succeed. "I don't have anywhere to go," he mumbled.

"Don't be a prat." Ron paused to chew yet another Chocolate Frog.

"Well, I guess I could go back to Grimmauld Place…."

Ron made a noise of disgust and swallowed. "You're coming home," he said firmly. "To the Burrow."

"I can't do that. With … Fred … and everything…."

"'Course you can. We want you there." His expression flickered slightly. "I want you there. Nobody blames you, Harry."

Harry thought they should, but he nodded anyway. If it would help Ron, of course he would go to the Burrow.

"I'm—" Ron cleared his throat. "I'm going to talk to Percy for a minute. You okay here?"

Harry nodded again, and Ron left to join his brothers.

"Have you seen Gran?" Neville dropped onto the chair Ron had just vacated.

"Not since the Great Hall. Why? Is she okay?"

"I think so," Neville said, spilling a stash of toast and bacon onto a nearby table. "She went to bed around lunchtime, and I haven't seen her since. Mr. Weasley said she was up earlier this evening, but I was still asleep. I guess we all have our days and nights mixed up. Help yourself," he added, making a bacon sandwich.

Harry didn't need to be asked twice. Confronted with the smell of bacon, his stomach had decided missing Ginny was no longer a priority.

"Where did you get this?"

"Went down to the kitchens," Neville said around a large mouthful.

Harry added a second layer of bacon. "I didn't know you knew how to get into the kitchens."

"I didn't," Neville said, taking a swig of milk. "Ginny showed me."

Harry's stomach spasmed painfully again. He ignored it and took a bite. Maybe if it were full, it wouldn't be so sensitive.

"How is she?"

"I haven't seen her since last term … but I think you knew that." Neville watched him shrewdly.

"Okay, then, how was she? What happened with the sword of Gryffindor? Did she have any other detentions? Did the Carrows torture her about ... anything?"

Neville began prepping a second sandwich. "She's a Gryffindor, Harry. She had loads of detentions."

He groaned.

"Getting the sword was her idea. She said Dumbledore left it to you in his will, but the Ministry wouldn't give it to you."

Harry nodded. "How were you planning to get it to me once you had stolen it?"

Neville gave a wry smile. "Ginny said we could worry about that once we had it."

"And your detention in the Forbidden Forest? It was like that time in first year, right? You were with Hagrid?"

Neville shook his head. "It was a full moon. Our detention was to spend the night avoiding Greyback."

Harry's jaw dropped, and his stomach followed suit. It took him several seconds to find his voice. "Don't— don't tell Ron that, okay?"

"She was brilliant," Neville said. "I don't think she was even scared, just really pissed off that Snape prevented us from helping you."

Harry knew better, but Ginny was a very good actress.

"What— what else?" Mangled by his tightening grip, his sandwich was now the approximate size of a saltine.

"She refused to curse the younger pupils. Was caught with a _Daily Prophet_ once; I still don't know how she got that. Newspapers were banned, you know. Filch turned her in for talking to Luna between lessons. We ran into Mrs. Norris coming back from a DA meeting around Halloween." Neville licked one finger and concentrated on removing the crumbs from his shirt.

"What _else_, Neville?"

He hesitated. "Do you really want to know?"

Like with Dumbledore, Harry wanted the truth, the facts. "Yes. Yes, I do."

"It was Seamus who first noticed that the older girls were coming back from detentions apparently untouched. We always had bruises, cuts, rope burns, but after the first few weeks, the girls didn't have a mark. At least not where we could see." He paused to let the implication sink in. "I tried to talk to Ginny, Seamus talked to Lavender and Parvati, I even asked Luna and Hannah … none of them would talk about it. We got together with Michael, Anthony, and Ernie, and once they started paying attention, they reported the same thing. The older girls, about fifth year and up, were returning from detentions with no visible injuries." Neville vanished the rest of the food, looking nauseated. "After a while, we realized they were taking detentions for the younger girls, and the pure-blood witches were taking more than their share."

Harry felt sick and dizzy. Ginny was a pure-blood witch. Had the Carrows used that against her? Instead of protecting her, had her blood status made her a target for a different form of depravity?

"The girls must have had some kind of communication system, because all of a sudden, the pure-blood witches were everywhere, even ones not in the DA. In the Great Hall, the library, the courtyard … everywhere pupils gathered, every time Amycus and his Slytherin gang tried to intimidate, there were at least one or two pure-blood witches who would get in the way. A little while after that, they backed off. Or at least, the girls started having the same injuries that we did." Neville paused, watching Harry digest the news. "I'm sorry, Harry. You said you wanted to know."

This was worse than he had imagined, worse than Neville's account to him, Ron and Hermione on the way in from the Hog's Head, worse than his nightmares. He had been so focused on Ginny's physical safety, on separating himself from her, had assumed her pure blood would be a shield, that he had not considered her desirability to wizards who thought magical blood was ideal; he had not considered her value in promoting a pure-blood society. And she was beautiful, genuinely beautiful….

"Ginny, was she ... did they…."

"I don't think she was raped," Neville said bluntly. "I think she would have fought hard enough they would have had to have injured her for that. Beyond that, I don't know. Like I said, she wouldn't talk about it."

The last time Ginny had been quiet and reserved while at Hogwarts was when she was writing in Tom Riddle's diary.

"I wish you could have seen her this year," Neville said. "She was amazing. She stood up to Snape and the Carrows, encouraged the other members of the DA, looked after the younger pupils. She was the heart and soul of the resistance here, and she always spoke well of you. She's tough, Ginny is. She'll be all right."

"What about her friends?" Harry asked, trying to make his voice sound off-handed and casual. "Who did she hang out with?"

"The same people as always, Harry," Neville said dryly. "You don't have anything to worry about."

Harry grimaced. "We broke up."

"Not according to Ginny."

Harry jerked away from contemplating the door to the girls' dormitories again. "She wasn't supposed to say anything! I did that to protect her, to keep the Death Eaters from questioning her."

"I know, mate, and she didn't say anything. But she showed every wizard in this castle she was your girl."

"What are you talking about?"

"She must have nicked every Quidditch jersey you ever had, not to mention your old jumpers from Ron's mum. The Gryffindor one, and the one she made you in fourth year, with the dragon?"

Harry had outgrown that jumper long ago, but it would fit Ginny or even be a bit big on her. "But— but the uniforms…."

Neville laughed. "Luna said Ginny would show up to class in uniform, then casually shrug off her robe to reveal your jumper underneath. We'd be revising in the library or eating in the Great Hall, and she would reach into her bag, pull out one of your Quidditch jerseys, and pull it on over her robes. Drove McGonagall spare, she did. School record for most uniform violations in a single term."

"But Ginny is a Gryffindor, and she plays Quidditch, not to mention her brothers. How does that—"

"Harry, we're seventh years. The only Gryffindor Seeker any pupil in this school remembers, other than Ginny herself, is _you_. The most wanted wizard in Britain was a Gryffindor, and she goes round in his old scarlet jumper with a big gold lion on the front. Everyone knows how you got past those dragons at the Triwizard Tournament, even the little kids, and she wears a dragon jumper that matches your eyes. It was obvious."

"And she didn't— she didn't get in trouble?" Harry found it hard to believe the Carrows had allowed Ginny to do that if everyone associated it with him.

"She did. She didn't care. And she really is an amazing witch. Most of the time she hid them before anyone could catch her with the evidence."

"It's been months, though. And I kind of just … disappeared. Without saying goodbye."

"Like I said, she's been acting like your girlfriend all this time. But Harry?" Neville waited for him to look up. "No one's pulling for you, mate."

Harry sighed. Ginny was still too popular for her own good—and especially his.

()()()()

Harry was staring at the entrance to the girls' dormitories yet again, willing Ginny to appear and wondering what he would say, when a brunette stranger appeared. She wore a t-shirt from a sports team he didn't recognize and baggy pajama trousers the exact color and texture of the velvet bed curtains, and she was definitely too old to be a pupil.

"Good morning," she said, walking over and taking the chair next to Harry's.

"Good morning. Who are the Austin Ashwinders?"

"American Quodpot team," she said, and this time, Harry noticed her accent. "I'm Amy Green."

He shook the proffered hand. "Harry Potter."

She grinned. "I know. Nice wand work yesterday."

"Er, thanks. No offense, but you're obviously not a pupil, and you're too young to be anyone's mum. How did you get in here?"

She had already made herself at home, turning sideways in the chair and tucking her bare feet underneath her.

"I'm with the Weasleys," she said, waving a hand to where Charlie had joined his family on the other side of the room. "I worked with Bill in Egypt, and Charlie recruited me into the Order three years ago. I just didn't want to interrupt them, and I wanted to speak to you."

In that case…. "Do you know Ginny?"

"Sure. Sweet girl."

Sweet would not have been Harry's first choice of description, unless he were talking about the smell of her hair…. "Do you know where she's sleeping? My friend Hermione went to check on her during the night, and we haven't seen either of them since."

"I slept in her dorm. Your friend has curly brown hair?"

Harry nodded.

"They're both asleep, although I don't think Ginny has slept much at all. She put up a privacy charm, but she was crying when she came upstairs. And I think she and Hermione were up talking for a while."

That fit, if Ginny woke up when Hermione went to the girls' dormitories.

"Well, speak of the devil," Amy said, smiling.

Harry turned and saw a very bushy, slightly burnt-haired Hermione making her way towards him, her mum's old University of Bristol sweatshirt pulled over her pajamas.

"Morning." She yawned, sitting on the arm of his chair. "We didn't get to meet last night. I'm Hermione Granger."

"Amy Green," she said. "Bill and I—"

"Worked together in Egypt. I remember," Hermione said. "Ginny talked about you. She had a really good time on that trip. I was so jealous."

"Pardon me, Hermione, but do you have a change of clothes for me in your bag?"

"Oh! Of course." She lifted the hem of her sweatshirt and pulled the beaded bag out from the waistband of her pajamas. "I don't really need to carry it with me, now that we're at Hogwarts and everything's fine— well, not fine, exactly, but now that we're safe, but I don't feel right without it." She pulled out a pair of jeans that, by the length of the leg, were obviously Ron's. "Oh, I'm sorry. Everything's all messed up since the dragon ride, and I haven't bothered to…." A pink pair of socks.

"What dragon ride?" Amy said.

"_Accio_ my clothes!"

"No, Harry—"

Harry ducked as he was attacked by clothing. Jumpers, denims, pants, t-shirts, robes, socks, gloves, even an extra pair of shoes, soared out of the beaded bag until he was completely covered. Harry clawed his way free, scowling at the giggling witches. "Exactly how much of my stuff did you pack?"

"Everything you had at the Burrow." Hermione grinned. "You can go take a shower now."

Harry sorted through the pile, separating a single outfit as Amy inspected Hermione's handbag.

"Where the _hell_ have you been!"

Ginny was awake.


	4. Chapter Three

A/N: Don't hate me, guys.

* * *

"Where the _hell_ have you been!"

"I— I—"

Ginny advanced across the common room. "You disappear for nine months— _nine months_— and not a single word!"

"I— we were—"

"I don't care!" she shrieked, and Harry was alarmed to see her eyes glistened with tears. "I don't care where you were, you could have let me know you were alive!"

"No, Ginny, listen—"

"No, _you _listen!" She stood right in front of him now and jabbed her finger hard into his chest. "You Disapparated right in front of me, and we had no idea where you went!"

"Your dad said not to reply! He said it wasn't safe, that you were being watched!"

"Then we heard about a break-in at the Ministry. The Ministry of Magic, Harry, what were you thinking? Were you _trying_ to be killed?"

"Of course not! We needed—"

"And then nothing. _Nothing!_" Her voice cracked. "For months and months, not a single word, not one sighting, _nothing_ to indicate you were still out there. Do you know what that was like, Harry? Do you?"

Her brown eyes were hard, cold, and her jaw was set like Fred and George's, a visible and painful reminder of her dead brother.

"I'm sorry, Ginny, we couldn't—"

"And then Bill shows up on our doorstep. 'Harry, Ron, and Hermione are at our house,' he says. Luna and another boy, a dead house-elf, an injured goblin, and Mr. Ollivander. He says we've got to leave the Burrow right away because the Death Eaters know Ron isn't sick, that he's traveling with _you._ So, now I know where you are, and you know where I am, and still. No. Word."

But before Harry could protest he hadn't even known Bill was going to the Burrow until it was all over, that he had been busy burying Dobby, she went on.

"I told myself you hadn't had time, that Bill had rushed off before you could tell him anything. But then he comes to Auntie Muriel's with Mr. Ollivander, and I come running down the stairs—" She was actually crying now, streams of tears running down both cheeks. "—Expecting a letter from you, but he has nothing. Not a note, not a message, not a single word. Then you finally show up here after _nine months_, and you _still_ don't say anything to me. You wouldn't stand up for me—"

"Wait one minute," Harry said through clenched teeth. She was talking about the Room of Requirement, when she silently pleaded with him to speak to Mrs. Weasley about letting Ginny fight with the others and he refused. But this entire night—these entire _nine months_, as she liked to say—were all about standing up for Ginny and the other victims of Voldemort.

But Ginny didn't wait. Despite her tears, she looked neither sad nor vulnerable.

"You just order me around. 'Get out, Ginny. Come back, Ginny. Stay safe, Ginny,'" she mocked. "Well, I have news for you, Harry Potter. I've never been safe at Hogwarts, and this year was no different!"

The truth of those words hit Harry like a blow to the stomach, and all the air rushed out of him.

"You do _not_ get to tell me you love me and then just fall off the face of the earth! You can't just reappear, and stir up hope and promises, and then let me believe you're _dead!" _She put both hands on his chest and pushed, hard enough that he stumbled backwards.

"I never said that!" Harry glanced briefly at the Weasleys in the corner, then met Ron's eyes. "I never said I loved her."

" 'It's been like something out of someone else's life, these last few weeks with you.' " Ginny threw the words at him like an accusation.

"Ginny…." Hermione reached for her friend, but Ginny shook her off.

" 'I only wish I'd asked you sooner.' " Ginny continued quoting Harry's words back to him. " 'We could've had ages … months … years maybe.' " She swiped her eyes. "Well, I'm glad you didn't ask me sooner, Harry, and I hope you never ask me again!"

Harry stared at Ginny with a buzzing noise in his head. He saw her eyes widen and her expression crumple, as if her own words just now reached her ears. He heard faint gasps and murmurs, realized everyone in the common room had heard, and bolted. Vaulting over the sofa behind him, he slammed through the portrait hole and broke into a run.

()()()()

"Oh, no," Ginny whispered, staring at the back of the Fat Lady's portrait, which Harry had opened so forcefully that it bounced off the outside wall and shut itself again. "Oh, no, oh, no, oh—"

Ron glowered at her. "How could you? How could you do that to him? You know how Harry hates to be the center of attention, how private he is, and you humiliated him in front of everybody!"

"I'm sorry, Ron, I didn't mean it!" Not the never asking part. Not the part that Harry (and everyone else) would remember.

But Ron continued to glare at her. Ginny didn't blame him. Yes, she had been hurt when Harry didn't take even a moment to speak to her, and she had been furious at his collaboration with her mother, but she couldn't believe she had said that, about never wanting … that she had hurled the words she had held close to her heart all year as if they were weapons.

An arm slid round her waist, and Ginny followed its pressure without thinking. They were halfway up the stairs before she realized it was Hermione, and Ginny began crying in earnest.

"He's never going to forgive me! Ron is right. Harry is a very private person, and I know he meant those things to stay between us."

"Come on, Ginny, let's get upstairs."

But Ginny leaned more heavily against Hermione and cried harder. Hermione, perhaps sensing that Ginny wasn't going to stop, sank down against the wall.

"Shh, it's okay. It will be okay."

"No, it won't!" Ginny sobbed. "I love Harry, and now he hates me! He's going to hate me forever! I dreamt— I dreamt about the Forest. The night we had our detention for stealing the sword of Gryffindor. We were running, me and Harry, we were running together, and then I was back on the steps of the castle again, watching Hagrid carrying his— his b-b-body out of the Forest. And I was so angry with him for d-dying, and angry that he wouldn't let me come with him tonight, and I just— I just wanted to tell him it wasn't fair!"

Hermione said nothing. She held Ginny and rubbed her back. Ginny just kept crying; she had no self-control anymore. She had held back all year, held in the fear and the pain and the anger and the hurt and the sheer rage, and she couldn't hold back anymore. She knew she was embarrassing herself, wetting Hermione's shoulder with snot and tears, but it was too much. On top of everything else that had happened since her fake galleon had glowed with heat two nights ago, fighting with Harry was too much.

"Ianed!" she wailed.

"What?"

"I w-w-w-want— I w-want F-f-fred!"

"Oh, Ginny." Hermione sounded tearful herself. "I'm so sorry, love. So very, very sorry."

And still Ginny cried. She cried until her nose stopped up, until the muscles in her face ached. She cried until her shoulders hurt from shaking and there was a stabbing pain in her chest. She cried until she was empty, until her throat was raw and her stomach heaved and her tears simply ran out. She took a few stuttering breaths, then pushed Hermione away and turned to the side, retching.

Hermione stayed with her, holding her hair out of the way and vanishing the sick as it splattered on the steps. When at last it was over and Ginny stood up, Hermione conjured her a glass of water and a washcloth. Ginny took them with shaking hands.

Hermione put her arm round Ginny's shoulders. "Come on, let's get you to bed."

"I want to apologize to Harry."

"I know, but you should sleep first."

Ginny's lip trembled. "I should have slept before I shouted at him."

"I know, love, but it will be okay. Here you go. Drink this."

Ginny didn't know what it was, nor did she care.

"Hermione? Will you … will you stay with me?"

"I'll stay until you fall asleep," she promised, fussing with the covers.

"Harry's never going to forgive me." Ginny mumbled her last thought before surrendering to oblivion.

()()()()

Harry sat in the corner of an empty classroom somewhere, legs drawn up, arms around them, forehead on his knees. After everything— those perfect weeks at the end of sixth year, breaking up to protect her, worrying about her, dreaming about her, following her dot on the map, seeing her in the Room of Requirement, passing her on the grounds, her face in his mind's eye … even this morning, longing for her to come down the stairs so he could see her, talk with her— after all that, and she didn't want to be with him anymore? Harry clenched his hands into fists. No, not _anymore_; _never again_, she said. She didn't want him to ask her to be his ever again.

Harry placed his hand on his chest, over the stabbing pain, but there was nothing there. No knife to pull out, no visible wound he could mend with a spell or dittany. How did— how did this happen? They had been fine last summer— fine! Okay, it had been a bit awkward at the Burrow, but Ginny hadn't been angry when they broke up. She even said she was expecting it. She said Harry going after Voldemort was why she liked him so much. And his Birthday Kiss. Harry didn't know much about relationships, but he knew that was not a goodbye. How had Ginny described it? "Something to remember me by." And he had remembered her, every day, sometimes every hour. He closed his eyes, feeling the wetness under his lashes.

Ginny had cried. Other than Dumbledore's funeral (and with Fred), Harry had only seen her cry once before, when she woke up in the Chamber of Secrets. Amy said Ginny had been crying before she fell asleep and hadn't slept much. Harry sat up, thinking. It had been a very traumatic time for Ginny, the last couple of days. Coming back to school, Percy's return, the Battle, Fred's death— Harry winced— _his_ death, the chaos of the aftermath…. Maybe Ginny was just feeling … distressed. Overwhelmed. Maybe she hadn't _really_ meant it….

But it was a long way from distressed to "I never want to be with you." And she seemed genuinely pissed off by his behavior in the Room of Requirement. Harry clenched his jaw when he remembered her accusation that he had failed to stand up for her. How could she— He had always— She knew how he felt, she read between the lines of what he had said that day by the lake, and she— That didn't matter to her anymore? She _knew_ he had to leave; she knew it was too dangerous to communicate. Was she really that angry about being left behind? About leaving _them_ behind? Harry had spoken straight from his heart that day, risked himself because he trusted her, and now she threw it back in his face.

He rubbed his face against his sleeve. He'd have to go back soon. Meet the Weasleys for breakfast, at least. In fact, he was half surprised Ron or Hermione hadn't—

"Harry!" It was Hermione's voice. "Harry, we know you're in there."

Impossible. He had used the same protective spells that had hidden their tent so successfully for months. Hermione should see nothing but a blank stretch of stone wall, and he'd cast _Muffliato_ as well.

She banged on the invisible door. "I know you're in there, Harry. We have the Marauder's Map."

Damn. That bloody beaded bag of hers.

"Lower the wards, mate." Ron this time. "We want to talk to you."

"Yeah, well, I don't want to talk to anybody," Harry muttered, retreating farther into his corner.

"Harry, you're being stupid—"

"Oh, that'll get him to open the door!"

"He is," Hermione insisted. "He knows we know how to reverse the wards, and he still won't _let us in_!" She punctuated the last few words with corresponding bangs.

"Come on, Harry, we just want to talk," Ron said. "If you want to stay here after we're done, we'll leave you alone. Tell him, Hermione."

Harry could picture their silent argument. Hermione's stubborn face, Ron's crossed arms and pointed look. She would shake her head, Ron would raise an eyebrow, and Hermione would either—

She must have sighed and rolled her eyes, for the next thing Harry heard was, "Okay, Harry. We'll leave you alone after we've had our say."

He considered this. Ron and Hermione both knew how to get in, and while Ron was generally respectful of his privacy, Harry had no doubt that Hermione was coming in, whether invited or not. He reversed the charms.

"Harry? Where are you?" Hermione looked round the room at Harry-height.

Through the desks and chair legs, he saw Ron turn towards the farthest corner, and soon a freckled hand reached down to him. Harry took it and grudgingly allowed Ron to pull him to his feet.

"She didn't mean that last bit," he said at once.

"You don't know that." Harry kept his back turned.

"We do," Hermione said. "She said so. She was upset, Harry— really hurt. She had just dreamt about you coming out of the Forbidden Forest."

Meaning Ginny had just dreamt about him being dead. Harry squelched the spurt of guilt.

"I've told you for years that Ginny has a fierce temper, worse than Mum sometimes. You've just never been on the brunt end of it before."

"She wasn't just angry, she said—" It hurt just to think it. "She said she never wanted to be with me. She was sorry we were ever together."

"She lied," Ron said simply.

"She's not herself, Harry," Hermione said. "She's tired and emotional, and when she woke up scared and hurt and angry, she just reacted. You should have seen her face, afterwards. She's really upset about it. She cried herself sick. She wanted to come apologize right away, but I made her sleep first."

Harry turned to face his friends for the first time. "She should have yelled at me in private. Given me a chance to explain."

"Yeah, she should have, but it's like Hermione said, she just went off. Ginny can be mean when she's angry. Remember what happened when we interrupted her and Dean?"

Harry was not likely to forget that fight between the siblings for a very long time.

"I know it's been hard for her, and I'm sorry about— about everything, but that doesn't excuse—"

"Of course it doesn't," Hermione said quickly. "We just—" She glanced at Ron. "We just wanted you to know the circumstances, and to convince you to listen to her when she apologizes. That's all."

His expression must have been as unhappy as he felt, for Hermione looked anxious. "What you decide to do is up to you, of course, I just— _we_ just want you to give her a chance. You belong together, Harry. I know you do."

To his horror, Harry felt his eyes prickling and coughed, hard. "Are you done?"

Hermione nodded and turned to leave, but Ron didn't move. "Go on," he said to her. "I'll catch you up."

She bit her lip, looked between the two of them, then left the room.

"If you're going to give me another big brother speech, I'm really not in the mood," Harry said crossly, folding his arms and leaning against a desk.

Ron swung a chair around and straddled it backwards. "This is awkward as hell, so I'm only going to say it once. Do you remember the first thing you did after you kissed Ginny for the first time? You looked for me, to see my reaction. Because she's my sister and you're my best mate, and you wanted to make sure it was okay. And I said it was because I trusted you. I didn't say a word when you broke it off because I knew why you did it and frankly, I was relieved. And last summer, you promised not to mess her around, remember?"

"What's your point?"

"My point is, you care what I think, and I think you and Ginny belong together. Voldemort's gone. He can't hurt you or anyone you care about. You're free to do whatever you want with your life, and I think that should include Ginny."

Harry gaped. Ron's ears turned red but he plowed on. "I don't care what she said tonight, she loves you, Harry, and I think you love her back."

"I didn't— I never— who said—"

"Oh, come on! I know you, and I know my sister. I've never seen either of you as happy as you were when you were together. You promised me you wouldn't mess her around, so I expect you to make this work."

"You expect— You expect _me_—" Harry was so outraged he couldn't speak. He took a deep breath and pointed in what he thought was the direction of Gryffindor Tower. "She just said, in front of, like, a dozen witnesses, that she doesn't want to have anything to do with me!"

"Don't worry. She'll get a big brother speech too."

* * *

a/n: Harry's words to Ginny from their conversation after Dumbledore's funeral are quotes from: Rowling, J. K. _Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince_. Bloomsbury: London, 2005. pp. 602-03. Ginny's description of their kiss is from: Rowling, J. K. _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_. Bloomsbury: London, 2007. p. 99.


	5. Chapter Four

Breakfast was easier than Harry expected. If Bill, Charlie, and Percy were cooler towards him than usual, no one made mention of it (or of Ginny), and Neville gave no indication that he had witnessed anything untoward. Harry was contemplating a fourth slice of toast when Professor McGonagall stood up and called for everyone's attention.

"I have some announcements to make," she said. "Due to extensive damage to the castle, the school year is officially over."

To Harry's surprise, there was no reaction to this other than an attentive silence.

"Those of you who are able to Apparate may do so at your leisure. For those who need transportation, please notify your Head of House so we can arrange for Floo travel. O.W.L. exams will be rescheduled over the summer. Fifth-years, details will be sent to you by owl in the coming weeks. All seventh years have a mandatory meeting with their Head of House at eleven o'clock.

"It is my goal to repair the castle in time for lessons to resume on September second as usual, and this will require additional effort from all of us. Volunteers who are willing to assist in the cleanup and renovations, please see Mr. Filch." McGonagall paused. "Funeral dates are being coordinated through the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. Families of the victims will be notified directly, and a schedule of all services will appear in the_ Daily Prophet_ within the next week. All patients requiring further care have been transported to St. Mungo's Hospital. Please see Madam Pomfrey if you have any questions regarding the status of a patient." She paused again, consulting a scroll of parchment on the table by her plate. "The Aurors have asked me to inform you they are still in the process of searching the castle, grounds, and Hogsmeade for any remaining Death Eaters or—"

"Snape!" Harry exclaimed, and in the silence, his voice echoed off the stone walls. Every head in the hall turned towards him. Professor McGonagall gave him one of her stern looks, as if he were just another errant schoolboy, and he flushed.

"Or supporters of Voldemort," McGonagall continued, "and request you stay within the confines of the Great Hall and your respective common rooms and dormitories until their search is complete. You are dismissed."

There was the usual clamor of benches and footsteps, less deafening than usual since all the underage pupils were gone, but Harry, Ron, and Hermione didn't move.

"Snape's body is still in the Shrieking Shack," Hermione said.

"And we need to give our names to Filch for the cleanup," Ron added.

Harry nodded. "You two do that. I'm going to tell McGonagall about Professor Snape."

Harry stopped at the head table, waiting for McGonagall to finish her conversation with Professor Sprout.

"Tell Filch you need some help immediately and have him send any willing pupils down to the greenhouses," McGonagall said. "Yes, Potter, what is it?"

"It's Professor Snape," Harry said. "He's dead. He was killed by Nagini in the Shrieking Shack. His body must still be there."

"In the Shrieking Shack?"

"Yes. And Professor, he was on our side. Dumbledore planned his death with Snape."

Her gaze sharpened. "You weren't simply trying to antagonize Voldemort?"

Harry shook his head. "No, Professor. I saw it in the Pensieve. Snape gave me some of his memories before he died. They're probably still there, in the Pensieve in Dum— in your office."

"That's quite possible." McGonagall sighed.

For the first time since he had seen her the night before last, she looked, and sounded, weary. Harry wondered if she had slept yet.

"Professor? Are you all right?"

"Of course I'm fine," she said, and Harry was reassured to hear the usual briskness return to her tone. "I'll notify … someone." She fixed him with her beady stare. "I expect to see you, Weasley, and Granger in my office as well."

"Yes, Professor," Harry said.

()()()()

Charlie Weasley turned at the hand on his arm.

"I should go," Amy said.

"Do you want me to…." His family was merging in with the others leaving the Great Hall.

"No, don't bother them. Can I Disapparate from here?"

"No, not anywhere in the castle or on the grounds. I'll walk you out."

They crossed the Entrance Hall and made most of the journey down the long, winding drive in silence, past the burnt-out shell of the Quidditch stadium and around the lake. It wasn't until the winged boars on top of the Hogwarts gates were in sight that Amy spoke.

"You'll let me know about the funerals? Fred's, and Lupin and Tonks's?"

He nodded.

"It's just awful. And the baby…."

Charlie said nothing, just stuffed his hands in his pockets and studied the ground between his shoes.

"I really liked her." Amy sighed.

"Yeah, she was—" He cleared his throat. "She was special, Tonks was."

Amy leaned against his shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Charlie. For everything. For everyone."

He shrugged the opposite shoulder, careful not to dislodge her. "It was a war, and we won."

"But you don't feel like the victor."

No. No, this was nothing like what he thought victory would feel like.

Amy turned and hugged him fully. He wrapped his arms around her, squeezing hard. When she didn't complain or step back, it was several long moments before he released her.

"Don't be a stranger," Charlie said.

Amy smiled. "The Floo works both ways, you know. Take care of yourself, Charlie."

And she was gone.

()()()()

Shortly before eleven o'clock, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville, Dean, and Seamus left the Gryffindor Common Room for McGonagall's office. The six of them more than filled the doorway and McGonagall looked up.

"Take a seat, please," she said, indicating the chairs lined in two rows in front of her desk. "Due to the unconducive learning conditions and shortened school year, the Heads of House have decided to recommend to the Board of Directors to offer all the seventh years the choice of sitting their N.E.W.T. exams late summer or applying for jobs with written recommendations from each of us based on your coursework so far. Minus the Carrows, of course." Her nostrils flared at the mention of the Death Eaters, then she continued. "We fully expect the Board to follow our recommendation. Potter, Weasley, Granger, Thomas, we are offering you the opportunity to return in September to complete your seventh year and sit for N.E.W.T.s at that time."

"Yes," Hermione said immediately.

Harry and Ron looked at her.

"Of course we're coming back," she said, then seeing Ron's expression, she turned to Harry. "Aren't we?"

"You do not need to decide your answers until July first. That will give us time to make arrangements and adjust schedules."

"Who's going to teach Transfiguration?" Neville asked.

McGonagall looked startled.

"Well, you can't be Headmistress and teach the whole school too," he said.

"Next year's head has not yet been assigned," Professor McGonagall said.

"Of course you're Headmistress," Harry said staunchly. "You were deputy Headmistress, and now Professor Snape is gone, so that makes you Headmistress."

"If the Board of Governors approves."

"They'll approve," Harry, Ron, and Hermione said together.

The corners of McGonagall's mouth lifted before she looked at Neville and Seamus. "Do either of you want to take your N.E.W.T.s over the summer?"

"Not me," Seamus said at once. "Most of my effort this year has been concentrated on other things."

Neville didn't answer.

"Longbottom?"

"May I think about it?"

"Certainly. Let me know what you decide, and we can arrange for you to test in your chosen subjects."

Neville nodded.

Professor McGonagall folded her hands together on the desk. "Now that this is all over, I want to say I have never been more proud of a pupil than I am of all you, as well as the rest of the members of Dumbledore's Army. You defended the younger pupils and stood up for what was right. You were an inspiration."

"We learned it from you, Professor," Neville said.

Harry thought her eyes looked wet, but the light caught on her square spectacles, and he couldn't be sure. "Well," she said, then cleared her throat. "Run along now. You don't want to be late for lunch." Then she gave the Gryffindors one of her rare smiles.

()()()()

Ginny pulled out her DA galleon and tapped it with her wand. _GW LL Lunch. _She had slept till nearly noon, showered, and dressed in clothes from her trunk, which remained right where she had left it before Easter holiday. Given her scene in the common room in the middle of the night, she didn't fancy rejoining her family, but she was hungry. She couldn't remember the last time she ate anything; she had merely picked at her food yesterday. The coin warmed in her palm. _Meet in GH. _

Crossing her fingers that her family had already left the common room, Ginny descended the girls' staircase, peeked round the open door, breathed a sigh of relief, and made her way through the castle to the Great Hall, where Luna sat at the Ravenclaw table with _Death Omens: What To Do When You Know the Worst Is Coming_ open in front of her. Ginny sat down with her back towards the Gryffindor table and its large cluster of gingers at one end.

"How are you feeling?" Luna closed her book and peered at Ginny with her silvery-gray eyes.

"Better. I didn't really sleep until almost four. I think Hermione gave me Dreamless Sleep Potion."

"What's wrong?"

Ginny paused in reaching for a jacket potato. What wasn't wrong?

"Something's bothering you, and it's not Fred's death," Luna said with her typical frankness.

"I yelled at Harry," Ginny mumbled.

"Because he died without telling you?"

Startled, Ginny looked up. "No. Yes. Sort of." She dropped the hot potato onto her plate. "Amongst other things."

Luna nodded and passed the butter. "Yes, I was angry with him about that too."

"But not anymore?"

"No. I realized he couldn't have told us because we wouldn't have reacted properly to seeing his body. But I think the real reason is he was afraid to say goodbye."

Ginny frowned, a pat of butter balanced on her knife. "What do you mean, afraid?"

"If Harry were going to say goodbye to anyone, it would have been Ron, Hermione, and you. I think he was afraid if he saw you again, he wouldn't be able to leave."

A lump rose in Ginny's throat as if she had swallowed her potato whole, and she let herself remember the ceasefire. When she had been kneeling beside Alice Toliban and thought she had heard, or sensed, someone a few feet away. Had it really been Harry underneath his Invisibility Cloak? Had he stopped to see her one last time?

"He's never going to forgive me," Ginny moaned, dropping her knife and burying her head in her arms.

"I think Harry would forgive you just about anything."

Ginny shook her head, still hiding. "I said I was sorry he'd ever asked me to be his girlfriend and I didn't want him to ask me ever again."

"Well, that was stupid." Luna poured herself more pumpkin juice.

Ginny raised her head far enough to glare at Luna.

"What did he say?"

"He just ran off," Ginny said, her voice muffled by her arms again. "I know I hurt him, and I feel terrible about it."

"Then tell him so."

Ginny sat up and sighed. "It's not that simple, Luna."

"Why not?"

Ginny picked at her chicken. "It just isn't."

"You're a very nice person, Ginny, but sometimes you overcomplicate things. You Gryffindors are too emotional."

Ginny pushed back from the table with a loud screech as the wooden bench dragged across the stone floor. "Too emotional? My brother just died, and my boyfriend came back from the dead! I think I've earned the right to be a little emotional!"

Luna looked up at her placidly. "Your family has noticed you."

Ginny sat back down without looking round, but she could feel the eyes on her back. "Great. That's just great. Why did you have to push my buttons like that?"

"I wasn't pushing your buttons. I was stating a fact."

Ginny was starting to wish she'd had lunch with her family after all.

"You should eat something. You didn't eat at all yesterday."

"How would you know?" Ginny stabbed a piece of chicken with undeserving venom. She _was_ hungry.

"I worried about you, so I watched you," Luna said simply.

Ginny looked across the table at her oldest friend. "I'm sorry."

"I know. Eat your lunch."

()()()()

"Hello, Luna. Hi, sis. Are you going to eat that?" Without waiting for an answer, Ron reached for Ginny's last bite of potato. She jabbed at him with her fork, but he was too fast.

"Luna, do you mind giving us a couple of minutes?"

"Oh, are you going to talk to Ginny about her fight with Harry?" Her face was bright with interest.

"Er, yeah, but I wanted to do it in private. No offense."

"Of course not. You haven't offended me in a long time, Ron." Luna picked up her book. "See you later, Ginny."

"Please don't yell at me. I feel dreadful already."

"You should. That was totally uncalled for."

"You sound like Mum. Oh, Merlin, she didn't hear it, did she?"

"Not our mum, no. Seamus's and Neville's gran, yes."

Ginny groaned.

"Look, I know this last year has been hard for you, in more ways than one. Neville told us a bit about what Hogwarts has been like, and I know you were in the thick of it. But it hasn't been easy for Harry, either."

"I know that."

"Then act like it," Ron said sharply. "Stop acting like he was a selfish git who didn't give a damn, because nothing could be further from the truth. You have no idea the sacrifices Harry has made this year."

"That doesn't give him the right to tell me what to do," Ginny snapped. What about her sacrifices?

Ron shrugged.

She pushed a few tiny stems of broccoli around with her fork. "I didn't mean it, that bit at the end. Harry— he knows that, right?"

"Harry hasn't had a lot of people who cared about him. I think it still surprises him when someone does, and he thought you did."

She swallowed. "Do you— does he—" The more she thought about what she'd said, the more she realized just how hurtful it had been. "Do you think he could forgive me?"

"He forgave me," Ron said simply.

Ginny didn't know what that meant, exactly, but it was enough for now. "Is he still at the table?"

"Nah, he stayed just long enough to eat and then he left. But Hermione has the Marauder's Map."


	6. Chapter Five

Ginny stepped behind a statue on the first floor and tapped the Marauder's Map with her wand, resisting the flood of memories of doing this with Harry a year ago under vastly more pleasurable circumstances.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." At once, the halls and rooms of Hogwarts inked their way across the map. New gaps and broken spaces appeared, places where floors overlapped, staircases dropped off, or walls stopped short of their actual dimensions. When the castle was repaired, hopefully the map would be fully useable again.

"Harry Potter, Harry Potter," she murmured, searching the dots on the parchment.

He wasn't in his dormitory or the Gryffindor Common Room, but Ginny hadn't expected him to be easy to find. He wasn't in the dungeons, or the kitchens, or any of the rooms off the Entrance Hall.

"Come on, Harry, where are you?"

She refolded the map to examine another floor when suddenly she knew where he was.

"Mischief managed," she whispered, giving the map another tap and tucking it in her pocket.

She jogged down the marble staircase, dodged the debris in the Entrance Hall, ran down the castle steps, and hurried onto the grounds, circling the lake until she came to a brushy section that shielded anyone from view both from the castle and from the other shore.

"Harry? It's Ginny. I've come to apologize."

There was no sound other than the gentle lapping of the lake and no movement other than the leaves and a few tendrils of her hair, which were stirred by a light breeze. Ginny pushed a branch out of her way, bent down, and entered the little copse. Harry sat facing the lake and gave no indication that he'd noticed her arrival.

"I'm sorry," she said at once. "I didn't mean it, about wishing we were never together, or—"

What if he wouldn't forgive her? What if he _didn't_ ask her again?

"Or never asking me again."

He said nothing.

"I know you had to leave. And I know it was too dangerous for you to be in touch with anyone, but it still hurt not to hear from you, to always be strong for everyone else. I was angry and exhausted, and I had just dreamt about you being carried in Hagrid's arms. It's no excuse," she added hastily, seeing his face darken. "I'm just trying to explain why I was so upset. I wanted to talk with you about all that, but I had planned to do it with just the two of us. I'm sorry I yelled at you in front of everyone."

"You were planning to yell at me in private?" It was fleeting, but she saw his lips twitch, and hope filled her chest like an expanding bubble.

"Something like that."

Harry said nothing for a long time. He still wouldn't look at her, and the longer Ginny waited, the more the hopeful bubble shrank. She didn't know what else to say. If Harry didn't accept her apology….

"You're not the only one who was worried," he said. "We had no idea what happened during the attack at Bill's wedding. We just left, with Death Eaters arriving on every side. I didn't see you before we Disapparated. You could have already been dead."

"But Dad—"

"Not for hours," he said sharply. "And he said you were being watched, which was no comfort whatsoever. We didn't really find out what happened until Lupin arrived at Grimmauld Place days later." Harry stood and began to pace.

"And then when Snape became Headmaster—I spent the whole year knowing you were under the control of a _murderer_, Ginny! Do you have any idea how _that_ felt? Watching your dot on the Marauder's Map, seeing you not just in lessons or in the Tower, but in the dungeons. Or the hospital wing! Sometimes for hours at a time. Ron would be on watch, or Hermione, and then it would be my turn, and first thing when I was done, I'd check the map, and you were still there. Merlin, do you have any idea the thoughts that went through my head? The kind of shit you can dream up when you're just sitting in a tent with nothing to do?" He glared at her, the long hair and stubble making his expression fierce.

"I'm sor—"

"We heard about you and Neville and Luna trying to steal the sword. Overheard, actually. And I'm standing there, clutching the Extendable Ear, silently begging someone, anyone, to ask about you because they said Snape caught you, but they didn't say what happened." Harry pushed his hands through his hair and blew out a breath. "That might have been the longest two minutes of my entire life."

Ginny didn't know what to say. She had—after the break-in at the Ministry, she had known _nothing_ about Harry until Easter, when Bill had moved them from the Burrow to Auntie Muriel's. It had never occurred to her that Harry had news of her; just enough news to be worried sick.

He glanced at her, then away. "You were right about me not having time to get a message to you when we arrived at Shell Cottage. I didn't even know Bill was leaving until he was already back." He stopped, his shoulders tense. "I was digging Dobby's grave."

Ginny closed her eyes. The bubble of hope was now nothing more than a thin film swishing sickeningly in her stomach. No wonder Ron had been so upset with her.

"We spent a month planning the Gringotts break-in with Griphook. Right under the nose of a very suspicious employee, I might add. I just didn't—"

"Think of me," she said flatly.

"That's not fair," Harry said, and though his voice was harsh, he refused to look at her. "Didn't I just say I followed your dot on the map? I thought of you all the time, but I couldn't—I couldn't think about _us_. Not then. Not with—not with everything I had to do. And I won't apologize for trying to keep you safe. I'll never be sorry for that."

Ginny felt the tears coming on and forced them back. She was not going to cry in front of Harry again. "You think I'm being selfish."

"I think…." He sighed. "I thought you understood. What about last year, at Dumbledore's funeral? You said you weren't surprised I was breaking up with you, that you knew I'd go after Voldemort. You said it was—" His Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed.

"I said maybe it was why I liked you so much," she whispered. "I haven't changed my mind, Harry."

"You haven't?"

His hopefulness was painful to see, and Ginny remembered what Ron had said about Harry being surprised when someone liked him. She shook her head in answer to his question, her heartbeat increasing as Harry moved closer.

"I fancied you, Ginny. A lot. I thought you felt the same way."

He finally met her eyes, and she wished he hadn't. She had never seen such a wounded, vulnerable expression. Her ginger temper and her big fat mouth!

"I did. I do!" Ginny reached for him, but Harry actually dodged her touch. She swallowed the hurt. "I care about you very much. I was wrong in the common room. I let my temper get the better of me and I'm so sorry. I don't regret being with you. I never have, I was being stupid. What you said that day … those words have been my lifeline this year. Thinking about … hoping we might have a chance, after all this was over … it's the only thing that got me through this year."

He studied her for several moments, then looked out over the lake again.

"So, now what?"

Ginny swallowed against a dry mouth. What if he said no?

"Can we— can we start over? Like we just started dating and—"

"Is that what you want?"

"Is what what I want?"

"To be boyfriend and girlfriend again."

Ginny nodded, probably too eagerly, considering that her neck spasmed. "I mean, if you do." It was first year all over again, the nerves and the clumsiness and the tongue-tying.

"How do I know you're not going to change your mind?" He crossed his arms.

She took a deep breath. "You have to trust me, Harry. I'll work hard to earn your trust, but at some point, you're going to have to take that step and believe me. I was hurt and angry, and I said things I didn't mean. You've told me your side, I've apologized, and now I'm asking you to forgive me." She loved Harry, but she was not going to beg. Either he would accept her apology and give them a chance, or—

Ginny slammed the door shut on that thought. Harry would forgive her. He had to. _Please, Harry._

"The next time you're mad at me, I expect a chance to fight back. To explain. _Without_ an audience."

She hadn't realized she was holding her breath until it left her in a rush. "I will. I promise."

He reached out his hand.

()()()()

Ginny and Harry climbed through the portrait hole and found Ron and Hermione sitting side by side on a sofa. They looked—different, somehow. Ginny turned to Harry.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

"About them!" She waved her hand at Ron and Hermione.

Harry looked at the two of them, then back to her. "Oh. Well, it just happened."

"I don't believe it," Ginny said.

"It's true," Hermione said, leaning into Ron's shoulder. His ears turned pink, and both of them smiled. They did look quite cozy together.

"Huh-uh. I don't believe it, and I'm not going to believe it unless you kiss. A proper kiss."

"Ginny," Hermione said, glancing round the busy common room. "There are people here."

"That didn't stop you before," Harry said.

"That's different," Hermione said.

"Now." Ginny crossed her arms. She would get the full story out of Hermione later.

Ron and Hermione looked at each other, and Ginny watched as they did a silent communication she had seen many times before. But this time, Hermione's expression softened, and when Ron leaned in, she tipped her face up.

"Now look what you've done," Harry accused as the kiss continued. "They won't come up for ages."

Ginny saw the moment Ron and Hermione forgot where they were and cleared her throat. Then again.

"Oi!" Harry said sharply.

Hermione jerked away, very pink in the face. Ron's arm slid round her waist. They beamed, so happy that watching them made Ginny's heart hurt.

"Believe us now?" Ron said smugly.

"Yeah," Ginny said, her voice husky. She forced herself to smile lest Ron and Hermione misinterpret the tears that threatened. "It's about damn time."

()()()()

Harry and Ron sat on the floor in Ron's bedroom at the Burrow, leaning back against their respective beds with Hermione between them. Crookshanks lay in her lap, purring like a furry ginger engine. It seemed impossible that only seventy-two hours ago they had been at Shell Cottage, finalizing the plans for their assault on Gringotts.

Harry broke the awkward silence. "You cut your hair."

Hermione reached up and fingered the shortened strands that now just brushed her shoulders. "I had to. It was burnt pretty badly."

The silence stretched again, heavy with memories.

"What time do we need to be at Hogwarts tomorrow?" Harry said.

Ron's brow wrinkled. "For what?"

"For the cleanup," Harry said. "You put our names down, right?"

"I did. They're supposed to set up teams over the next few days and owl us with the information."

Harry frowned. "But the castle was a complete wreck. Surely they can use help immediately."

"You can't just repair the castle at random, though," Hermione said. "They'll have to find the blueprints, the notes on the protective spells, strengthen the structure itself before they work on the cosmetic stuff."

"Well, we could at least help out on the grounds. Clear up the damage from the giants, maybe help Professor Sprout with the vegetable gardens and the greenhouses."

"It's not your responsibility to clean the entire battlefield, Harry," Ron said.

"Nobody will blame you for taking a few days off," Hermione said. "You just went through an incredibly traumatic experience. You died!"

Harry picked at the frayed hem of the blanket hanging over the edge of his camp bed. They didn't understand. The castle _was_ his responsibility; it was his choices that had brought the Battle to Hogwarts, that had delayed past Voldemort's deadline.

"Not tomorrow, okay?" Ron said. "We'll go with you in a few days, but … I want to stay with my family for a bit."

The guilt and grief rushed up from nowhere, overwhelming Harry. Of course Ron wanted to be home; his brother had just died….

"I have all your stuff," Hermione said with forced brightness, digging in her omnipresent beaded bag. "Your rucksack—" Out came the bag Harry had packed nearly a year ago with his most prized possessions. "Your clothes—" Out came several stacks of folded clothing. "And your books." She added a couple of books to the stack. "You have the Cloak and the mokeskin pouch, right?"

He nodded. "And Ginny gave me the map." As Hermione pulled Ron's belongings out of the bag, Harry said, "That charm you put on the bag was brilliant. We never would have made it without you, Hermione— the supplies, the tent, the dittany. Godric's Hollow, Malfoy Manor, all your research about the Horcruxes…. Thank you. Truly."

She added a final pair of maroon socks to Ron's stack of clothing. "You know you're very welcome, Harry."

Harry looked to Ron but hadn't even opened his mouth when Ron said, "Don't even start, mate. That's what friends are for."

"You two have gone above and beyond the call of friendship."

Hermione smirked. "We did that a long time ago."

"And we'll keep doing it for as long as you need us," Ron said.

Harry took a deep breath and tried to lighten the mood. "There go my plans for a quiet and peaceful life."

Ron snorted. "You'd be dead bored and looking for trouble inside of a week."

"How many times do I have to tell you? I don't go looking for trouble—"

"Trouble usually finds you," Hermione and Ron said together, and the three of them laughed.

* * *

a/n: I thought I'd give you an idea of where we're headed and especially how long I think it will take to get there. This fic is about 100K words. I can't tell you how many chapters it is because I don't break fics into chapters until they're done, and I'm still working on that part. As those of you who follow me (hugs!) have probably noticed, I don't write long chapters-usually between 2000-3000 words. For this story specifically, I am much more concerned about content and flow, how well the scenes fit together, than I am about word count, so there will be some shorter chapters in the 1500-2000 range, but I'll try not to do that two weeks in a row. We will be covering the first few weeks after the Battle in detail; fully half of those 100K words take place in May, with the remaining 50K covering the rest of the summer until Ginny and Hermione leave for Hogwarts. My best guess? We're looking at nine to ten months of updates, so grab your favorite beverage and settle in for the ride :)

Thanks for reading! Especially if you stuck around for that technical author's note ;)


	7. Chapter Six

One thing Charlie did not miss about living at home was waiting for the toilet. The bathroom door was firmly shut, Burrow code for "occupied," so he leaned against the wall of the landing to wait. He hadn't slept much. He had thought, given everything that had happened, he would sleep like the dead when he finally—

That was the problem. Everything reminded him of Fred. Being in the Gryffindor Common Room, flash back to nearly a decade ago, ignoring the shenanigans of eleven-year-old twins. The Great Hall, watching Fred's Sorting. McGonagall and the look on her face when she realized she was getting two more Weasley boys at the same time. An old tapestry, and catching Fred and George coming out of a secret passageway his first night on prefect duty. A dual-colored taffy on top of his pillow last night, placed there who knows how long ago in anticipation of his next visit home. His last visit home, when he had seen the twins' joke shop for the first time and Fred had shown him their Defense Against the Dark Arts line, his blue eyes glowing with enthusiasm.

The bathroom door opened, and Charlie looked into the same blue eyes. He was astonished to see that George was completely dressed. "Where are you going?"

"Hogwarts."

"Ho— what for?"

"Did you see the castle? It's a disaster."

"I know, but—"

"McGonagall asked for volunteers to help clear up."

"I know," Charlie repeated, "but don't you think—"

"I can't sit here and do nothing," George said. "We don't even know when— I can't just sit around and wait. At least there I can do something useful."

"All right. Have you had breakfast?"

"I'm not hungry."

"Well, I am. Give me a chance to change and make a sandwich, and I'll go with you."

George hesitated.

"It's barely daylight, George. Ten minutes, okay?"

George nodded, and Charlie stepped into the bathroom and leaned his head against the closed door.

Everything was going to remind him of Fred today.

()()()()

Life at the Burrow settled into a hollow routine. Ron and Hermione recovered from their "camping trip," as Ron called it, relatively quickly, but Harry did little more than sleep and eat. After the first few days, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny spent most of their afternoons at Hogwarts, clearing debris and making simple repairs before returning home for dinner. Sometimes they were joined by Bill, Fleur, Charlie, or Mr. Weasley; always by Percy; and George worked at the castle from daylight to dark.

Evenings were the worst, when the comfortable, shabby sitting room was packed with people yet remained lifeless. Mrs. Weasley took her meals in her room, but George hardly ate at all. Charlie moved from one sibling to another, talking quietly, playing chess, or taking turns staring at a section of the_ Daily Prophet. _Ginny stepped into her mother's shoes, taking over the cooking, cleaning, and laundry. Percy sat with the family but did not join in unless spoken to directly. Ron and Mr. Weasley spent a lot of time with the Muggle objects in Mr. Weasley's shed. Hermione knitted two dozen elf hats in less than a week, then started on a layette for Teddy. Bill and Fleur usually stopped by for a few hours, but their departure only reinforced the gloom that had settled over the crooked house. Harry caught himself looking out the windows, expecting to see the shadowy mist that indicated the presence of breeding Dementors.

It was on one such evening, several days after the Battle, that the family was startled out of their lethargy by the sound of Ginny shrieking in the kitchen.

"It's all right," she called. "It's only an owl."

Harry heard a soft hoot and the sound of owl pellets shaken into a bowl.

"Dad." Ginny stood in the doorway between the kitchen and the sitting room, an official-looking scroll in her hand. "It's for you and Mum. From the Ministry of Magic."

Everyone watched as Mr. Weasley laid aside the paper, opened the letter, and read it. "They've set the date for Fred's funeral," he said, his voice shaking slightly. "It's Sunday, at two. The full list of services will be printed in the_ Daily_ _Prophet_ tomorrow. I should— I should tell your mother."

Ron threw down the remote control he had been fiddling with and stormed out of the room.

"Ron," Hermione cried, jumping up and following him. "Ron!"

Harry looked in Ginny's direction but saw only a wildly swinging door. Bill and Charlie were on either side of Percy, who sat with hands clenched and head bowed. Feeling helpless, useless, Harry climbed the stairs to bed.

()()()()

He was awakened by a knock on Ron's door.

"It's me," came Hermione's voice. "May I come in?"

He opened the door with his wand. "Where's Ron?"

"With George," Hermione said, flinging the blankets over Ron's unmade bed and sitting down. "Are you okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Don't, Harry. Don't pretend with me."

He laid back, watching the 1993 Chudley Cannons zoom across their season calendar poster. "I don't know what to say," he said quietly. "I don't know how to help them."

"Me either," Hermione sighed.

"But you went after Ron. What did you do?"

She shrugged. "Listened, mostly. Pretended not to notice he was crying. Talked about how Fred changed the covers on all my books the first summer I was at the Burrow. Remember?"

Harry did. Fred had been horrified that Hermione was planning to bring schoolwork to the Quidditch World Cup and switched the covers on her books every few days. Hermione had been furious; too young to do magic outside of school and too rule-obsessed to break the law, she hadn't changed them back until they got on the Hogwarts Express.

"How's Ginny?"

"Ask her yourself," Hermione said, a bit sharply.

Harry continued watching the Cannons fly (not very smoothly) across February, March, and April.

"To be honest, she's a bit hurt that you're avoiding her."

"I'm not avoiding her. We've spent every afternoon together."

"With me and Ron and everyone else at Hogwarts, and the rest of the time you're asleep. No one begrudges you the extra rest, Harry, but Ginny thought you had worked things out at Hogwarts, and now…."

"I don't know what to say," he mumbled again.

"So, let Ginny talk. She's much better at it than you, anyway."

Harry heard the smile in her voice and rolled to face her. "What if she wants to talk about Fred?"

"Then talk about Fred! I'm sure you have a lot of memories that are different from hers."

Harry hesitated. "What if she cries?"

"Then hold her. Maybe conjure her a handkerchief. She lost her brother and a lot of other people she cared about. She needs to know you're there for her."

He did want to be there for her; more than anything, Harry wanted to help Ginny through this. "Hold her and listen. That's it?"

"That's it," Hermione said.

"You're sure?"

"If you try it and it doesn't work, I'll come up with something else," she promised.

()()()()

Ginny's bed was empty. Remembering that her window overlooked the orchard, Harry crossed her room and pushed back the curtain. Someone was flying a broomstick, someone with long hair streaming in the moonlight.

Ginny landed when she saw him coming, and Harry joined her in the soft grass.

"Nice night," he offered.

"I love flying at night. My brothers wouldn't let me fly with them, so it's how I learned."

Harry decided to risk Hermione's advice. "Fred and George were impressed by that, you know."

She smiled. "Yeah. I was always sorry I never got to play with them. For Gryffindor, I mean."

"They would have loved that. Zacharias Smith might have had something to say about it, though, if there were _four_ Weasleys on the team."

"Git," Ginny muttered. "He nearly trampled some of the younger kids trying to get out of the Room of Requirement."

"I saw him pushing and shoving his way out of the Great Hall." He knew he needed to tell Ginny everything, but they had to start somewhere. "Where did you go when we went back into the Room of Requirement?"

"Looking for Fred and George. I knew they would let me fight with them."

"And you found George first?" Ginny had been nowhere in sight when Fred and Percy appeared in the corridor off the Room of Requirement.

She nodded. "I was with him when … we found out together."

Their hands lay side by side in the grass. Harry moved his just enough to brush hers, and she seized it in a tight grip.

"How— how did it happen?"

He turned to look at her, surprised. "You don't know?"

"I didn't want to upset Percy or Ron by asking."

"He was dueling. He and Percy, and we— me and Ron and Hermione— we had just come out of the Room of Requirement, and we ran to help. Percy's attacker's hood slipped, and he recognized Thicknesse. Percy made a crack about resigning and Fred laughed, and then the wall of the castle was blown in. It wasn't Percy's fault, it wasn't that Fred let down his guard, it just happened. The hallway exploded, rubble and dust were everywhere, and— and— that's it."

Ginny turned on her side to face him, and Harry saw her eyes were wet with tears.

"I'm so sorry, Ginny," he whispered.

"Me too."

"No, I mean … the cease fire. The ultimatum. If I had gone earlier, before midnight—"

"Would Voldemort be dead?"

Harry blinked. Ginny had that hard, blazing look on her face again.

"I— I don't know. Ron and Hermione knew what was necessary, but … no. No, if I hadn't taken the time to— to do what needed to be done, I don't think we could have killed Voldemort that night."

"Then don't apologize. We knew— a whole family of Gryffindors, no family on our mother's side after the first war, half of us in the Order, the other half in the DA— we knew what was at stake. We knew it would be a miracle if all of us survived."

"I wish—"

"You brought Ron and Hermione back to me. You brought _you_ back to me. You rescued Luna. You defeated Tom Riddle. You did more than enough, Harry Potter."

She kissed him briefly, chastely, and the sweetness of her touch, of her forgiveness, washed over him like rain. Harry was surprised but pleased when she moved closer and rested her head on his shoulder.

"He is dead, right?"

"What?"

"Tom. He's really dead this time?" She raised up, and something in her eyes reminded him of a small, black-robed figure lying between the feet of an ancient, monkey-like statue. "He's not coming back?"

Harry met her gaze squarely. "No, Ginny. He's never coming back."

She settled against his shoulder again and they stayed like that for a long time, staring up at the night sky as Harry breathed in the sweet, flowery scent of her hair.

()()()()

"Kind of like old times, eh?" Charlie said.

Bill shrugged. He and Charlie lay on the roof of their bedroom at the Burrow. As the family grew, new stories and roofs and chimneys were added around this section but never exactly on top of it, resulting in a private sanctuary that provided the oldest boys a place to escape the chaos of their siblings. Arriving on the roof by Apparition (and having a drink with the brothers old enough to do so) had become something of a rite of passage for the Weasley boys. It went without saying that the first floor roof was Bill and Charlie's spot, and the younger ones were not allowed without invitation.

"Remember when we brought Fred and George up here for the first time?" Bill said. "Three summers ago, when you came home before the first Order meeting?"

Charlie laughed. "And Fred landed in the chimney, and George tried to get him out with a summoning charm, and—"

"And Percy yelled at both of them for not even being drunk yet?"

Both men smiled at the memory, then sobered. That had been the night before Percy's row with Dad and resulting split from the family.

"I can't believe it was Fred," Bill said, staring up at the stars. "I knew we weren't going to come out of this war unscathed, not with nine of us, but … I just can't believe it was Fred."

"I thought it was going to be Ron. Best mates with Harry Potter, what was he thinking?"

Bill nodded even though he knew Charlie couldn't see him in the darkness. "Me too. You know what Ron's like. Once he takes someone's side he never gives up." No one else knew that Ron had left Harry and Hermione last autumn, and as far as Bill was concerned, that was Ron's news to tell.

Bill swallowed. He'd never admitted this out loud, not even to Fleur, fearful that saying it would make it true. Even now, even knowing it was over, it was hard to say. "Or Gin-Gin, if the war went on long enough."

"Shit," Charlie breathed, and Bill was oddly reassured to know Charlie had worried about the same thing. "Do you think she's really in love with him? I mean—"

"Not her old childhood crush? I don't know. But if what she said that he said last year is true, then he's in love with her. Or he was, at least." Bill frowned, not at all certain how he felt about his sister and Potter together.

Charlie sighed. "He'd be a fool not to love her. I can't believe she's nearly seventeen."

"I can't believe _Ron_ is seventeen."

"Eighteen."

"Don't remind me," Bill said.

"We should bring him up here. Ron. Me, and you, and Percy, and George. We didn't get a chance last summer."

"Do you think George would do it without Fred?"

"I think he would do it for Ron," Charlie said.

"Maybe." Next to Fred, Ron was George's closest brother.

Charlie swore suddenly. Bill ignored both the stream of profanity and the tears behind the words.

"Did you see Mum and Bellatrix Lestrange?"

Charlie sniffed. "I think that might have been the most scared I have ever been in my entire life, and that includes the time I got trapped between a Chinese Fireball and her hatchlings."

"I couldn't believe it but I wasn't surprised, all at the same time," Bill said.

"Well, I'll tell you this— the next time Mum wants to cut my hair, I'm not going to argue with her," Charlie said, and Bill laughed.


	8. Chapter Seven

A/N: Sorry, guys, I sort of forgot to post. But what I really wanted to say is-

Thank you! The positive feedback on this story has been amazing. It broke 100 reviews just hours after I posted chapter six, the earliest for any of my fics ever, and has leapfrogged its way up the traffic stats to become my second most-followed story (number one by next week if the pattern continues). I really, really appreciate your comments and support and hope you continue to enjoy!

ktoo

* * *

Harry set his wheelbarrow against the wall with the others and wiped his brow. The weather outside was mild, but something was wrong with the atmospheric charms; he estimated it was nearly thirty degrees in the Great Hall. It had been a long afternoon clearing rubble from the outside steps, the Entrance Hall, and the Great Hall. Initially they had maneuvered the wheelbarrows with locomotor charms, but they switched to pushing them after Mrs. Norris's tail was run over by an unfortunate fifth-year Ravenclaw (Filch shouted himself hoarse threatening to ban the boy from Hogsmeade for life and only calmed down when Professor Sinistra offered to take the cat to Madame Pomfrey). Everyone was covered in soot; another team of volunteers scrubbed the walls of the Entrance Hall and the marble staircase, and it had been impossible to cross the hall without being showered in black dust.

Hermione waved to him from the single table in the center of the Great Hall, and Harry joined her and Ron. They had gone with a group of Hufflepuffs to help Hagrid in the vegetable gardens and the greenhouses. From the looks of it, Ron and Hermione had wrestled snargaluff trees … and lost. Hermione's face was surrounded by damp curls despite her ponytail, her face and arms were streaked with dirt, as were Ron's, and Ron had a cut on one cheek. Harry reached over and pulled a flitterbloom leaf from Hermione's bushy hair.

"Ouch!"

"Sorry," Harry said, using both hands to free the leaf, then laying it on the table in front of her.

"Honestly," she said, picking up the leaf and shredding it. "Hagrid is as clueless about dangerous plants as he is monsters."

Before Harry could question her further or ask where Ginny was, McGonagall stood up at the other end of the table.

"Thank you all for your hard work. Please be certain to place all your tools and equipment back where you found them. We do not want to waste the first half of tomorrow clearing up from today. You are dismissed."

There was the usual chatter and clamor of benches on stone as everyone began filing out of the Great Hall. Harry scanned the crowd for Ginny's bright hair and spotted her ahead of him, exiting through the side doors with Luna. He caught up with her next to the marble staircase.

"How did you two stay so clean?"

"We helped Slughorn brew potions for Madame Pomfrey," Ginny said. "She said it made her nervous not to have at least a basic emergency supply."

"Ron, where are you going? Harry and Ginny are right over there."

Ron tugged Hermione by the hand. "Just come upstairs with me for a minute."

"Whatever for?" Hermione pushed several loose strands of hair behind one ear. It seemed even more uncontrollable since she had cut it.

Ron glanced at Harry, Ginny, and Luna, who had been joined by Neville, then round the still-crowded Entrance Hall.

"Well, if you must know, Miss Nosy, I have no intentions of leaving this castle yet again without _finally_ snogging you somewhere inside it."

Hermione's jaw dropped, then she turned pink as the DA members within hearing distance catcalled. "We can't—I can't—but—"

Ron scanned the crowd. "Oi, Macmillan! What's the password to the prefects' bathroom?"

"_Ron_!"

Harry and Neville laughed. Ginny whistled. The whole hall was watching now.

"It's 'spic and span,' " Ernie said. "But why wait?"

"_Ernie_!"

If possible, Hermione sounded even more scandalized. Harry turned round and saw Ernie rubbing his side. Apparently he'd just received a sound elbow in the ribs from Susan Bones, who stood beside him.

"Tell me you do not want to take a bath right now," Ron said, taking in Hermione's disheveled appearance.

Hermione opened her mouth then closed it, looking mutinous, and Harry knew Ron had won. She dropped Ron's hand and marched up the stairs.

A low chant started near the door and quickly grew in volume. "Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss!"

"Come on, Ron," George called from beside the empty hourglasses. "We listened to you two row for years. You owe us!"

There was a roar of approval from the seventh years of all houses and Gryffindors of all ages. Hermione turned abruptly. She was still ahead of Ron, but even with the extra height, all Harry could see was the back of Ron's head and Hermione's hand on his neck.

"You're wrong," Hermione said, breaking the kiss and continuing up the stairs as if she didn't have an enthusiastic audience. "We have kissed in this castle."

"That doesn't count," Ron said, stretching out a long leg and jumping to the landing.

"What do you mean, that doesn't count?" Hermione said indignantly.

They turned to climb the next flight of stairs and disappeared from sight.

"Do you think they'll stop arguing before they reach the fifth floor?" Ginny said.

She was grinning as broadly as Harry. With everything that had gone wrong in the last week, with most of Hogwarts visibly scarred, it felt refreshingly normal to see Ron and Hermione bickering in its halls.

"I doubt it," he said dryly.

"I hope not," Luna said. Harry, Ginny, and Neville looked at her. "Well, they've always squabbled because they liked each other. I don't want them to stop liking each other."

"I don't think you have to worry about that, Luna," Ginny said. "Ron knows I'll kill him if he screws this up."

()()()()

Ginny had just given the worktop a final swipe with the dishcloth when Hermione pulled out a chair at the kitchen table.

"Sit down, you two," she said to Harry and Ginny. "Ron and I need to talk to you."

Ginny turned round, pleased to be included. She took the seat across from Hermione, who looked directly at her.

"Last summer, I modified my parents' memories, gave them a new identity that didn't include having a daughter, and sent them to Australia."

Ginny's mouth fell open. She did _what_? "Hermione," she finally managed. "You— you made your parents forget about you?"

She nodded. "To keep them—and us—safe. I had told them quite a bit about Harry over the years, and I didn't want the Death Eaters questioning them."

"I—I get that, but … did you tell them?"

Hermione looked confused. "Tell them what?"

"That you were going to modify their memories!"

Now Hermione gaped. "Of course not! What if they didn't agree?"

"What if they never forgive you?" Ginny retorted.

"That's enough," Ron said, putting an arm round Hermione's shoulders. "We didn't think we were coming back. Hermione focused on giving her parents a good life without her."

Ginny said nothing else. Ron was giving her the "if you want to be included, you'll do as I say" look.

"You want to go to Australia and get them," Harry said.

Hermione nodded. "After the funerals. Fred's, Colin's, and Lupin and Tonks's are all early next week."

"What about Professor Snape's?"

"Snape's?" Ginny said in astonishment, but Harry held up his hand.

"I'll tell you later," he said without looking at her.

Ginny bit back her retort. Being included didn't mean she fit in.

Hermione and Ron glanced at each other, and Ginny knew before they spoke that they disagreed.

"I think we should stay," Ron said. "Snape was on our side the whole time. He really was a member of the Order. He gave us the sword of Gryffindor. He sent the silver doe. If he'd never done that, you might not have left the protective charms, Harry, and it could have been ages before I caught you up."

Harry shifted his gaze to Hermione, and Ginny thought there was a little accusation in it. Apparently Hermione did too, for her voice was apologetic and pleading.

"I know, Harry, but his funeral isn't until Saturday. That's almost a whole week after the others. I want to meet with Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick by Wednesday, and I'm going to try to arrange for an international Portkey on Friday or Saturday. We could actually be in Australia by that time."

Harry frowned. "I can't leave that soon," he said. "I want to make sure I attend at least the services of everyone in the DA and the Order, and I'd like to go to the rest of the pupils' funerals too."

"I know, Harry. That's why Ron is coming with me."

Ginny watched the two boys exchange looks. Harry looked back to Hermione.

"You're sure? Because I'm happy to go with you. I'll do anything you need."

"We'll need someone to prepare the house and meet us at the airport if— if I can reverse the charm."

"You'll reverse it," Ron said confidently. "You cast it correctly, and you'll be able to reverse it without damage."

"I hope so," Hermione said in a small voice.

Regretting her impulsive words earlier, Ginny reached across the table and squeezed Hermione's hand. "Of course you will. Nobody's better with a wand than you."

"Well, whatever you need, consider it done," Harry said, and Ginny nodded fervently. "Do you still have your building society savings?"

"I do, but I don't think it will be enough for our expenses and four tickets home from Australia…."

"Consider it done," Harry repeated firmly.

"What kind of tickets?" Ginny said.

"We'll have to fly back with my parents in an airplane," Hermione said. "I can't bring them by Portkey or Apparition."

Ginny turned to her brother and raised one eyebrow. "You're going to fly in one of those things?"

"Hermione says they're safer than cars," Ron said, but his unease was obvious.

"That's true," Harry said. "What else do you need?"

"I sent an owl to McGonagall and Flitwick yesterday after the funeral schedule came out. Once I know when they can meet with me, then I can finalize our travel date. I already have the international Portkey application."

"You're not going to Apparate?" Ginny said. She still hadn't learned to Apparate (the Carrows had forbidden Apparition lessons for the sixth years) and thought she would do so at every opportunity if she knew how. Her heart pinged. Like Fred had that first summer he was of age.

"We could, but we would have to hop all the way across Europe, Asia, and the Pacific Islands. This way we'll take a Portkey to Dubai, one to Karratha, on the western coast of Australia, and then in to Canberra, the capital. I'm going to try and find Mum and Dad in the dental registry. I think— I'm pretty sure I didn't do anything that would prevent them from practicing." Her forehead wrinkled. "I hope not, at least."

"Have you told Mum and Dad?" Ginny asked.

"They're next," Ron said.

"Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?" Harry said. "I could come later, after…."

Hermione shook her head. "I love you for offering, Harry, but no. You're needed here, and that's okay."

"You promise to let me know if you need anything? Either of you?"

"We promise."

Ginny pulled Hermione aside as they left the kitchen. "I want you to know I'll help however I can, but I can't go with you. I don't have any of my own money, and Mum needs my help."

Hermione looked surprised. "Oh, Ginny, don't worry about that."

"I'm sorry about what I said. I can't imagine how difficult that was."

"Thank you," Hermione said quietly. "You should stay here with your family, and with Harry. They need you more than I do."

Ginny studied her friend's face. "You'll let me know if I can do anything?"

"I will. I think—" Hermione blushed and looked away, towards where Ron had disappeared on the landing above. "I think some time with just me and Ron would be good for us."

Ginny leaned back against the wall and grinned. "I'm sure it would."

"It's not like that," Hermione protested, but it was weak, especially for her.

"Well, Harry might not have noticed you and Ron slipping away every morning, but I have."

Hermione opened her mouth but Ginny overran her.

"I think it's brilliant and you know it. The pictures I've seen of Australia are beautiful. You should take some time for the two of you. Like a holiday."

"I've thought of that too," Hermione admitted, "but I'm so anxious about my parents, I don't know if—"

"Oh, I'm sure Ron would come up with something," Ginny said airily, and was rewarded with Hermione's laughter.

()()()()

When Ginny opened her bedroom door that night, Harry waited for her in the hall.

"Mind if I join you?"

"Think you can keep up?"

"I'll manage," he said dryly.

They left the house in silence, and it wasn't until Harry just stood at the entrance to the broom shed that Ginny remembered. "You don't have a broomstick, do you?"

He shook his head.

"Here." Ginny ducked a large cobweb and pulled two broomsticks forward before settling on a third. "We don't have anything like a Firebolt, but try this. It should fly straight, at least. It's Charlie's old broom, the one he used when he was playing at Hogwarts."

"Thanks."

"Last one to the other side is a flobberworm!" Ginny shouted, and kicked off into the sky.

"Hey, that's cheating!"

It wasn't long before Harry's outline appeared beside her, bent over his broomstick as they raced neck and neck for the forked tree at the opposite end of the orchard. Ginny edged in front of him at the last minute, forcing Harry to back off as she sailed round the landmark.

"Cheater," Harry accused again.

Ginny put on her innocent face.

"Best two out of three," Harry said.

"You're on!"

She loved flying with Harry; she loved flying under any circumstances. She edged her broom closer to his, but Harry pushed back this time, crossing dangerously close underneath her and making a hairpin turn several yards short of the apple trees that marked this side of the makeshift pitch.

"Now who's cheating?" she yelled, but she looped and followed, cutting inside and coming ahead of him again as he circled the forked tree.

They made many more than three runs down the pitch. Ginny's hands were numb on her broomstick handle by the time they landed, breathless, underneath the blooming apple trees.

"I miss flying," Harry said, dropping the broomstick and sitting down with his back against a tree trunk.

"Me too." Ginny copied his position against the tree opposite.

"No Quidditch this year?"

She shook her head. "No nothing, basically. If it was fun or interesting, the Carrows banned it."

Harry closed his eyes.

"Knut for your thoughts," Ginny whispered, quietly enough that he could ignore her if he chose.

He opened his eyes; she caught their reflection in the moonlight that filtered through the trees.

"I was thinking about Teddy."

"Teddy? Tonks and Remus's baby?" After the conversation with Ron and Hermione, she had hoped he would tell her about Snape.

He nodded. "Remus asked me to be godfather."

Ginny felt a sharp stab of fear before remembering this was not the proper response to such news. "That's great, Harry. Congratulations." But he wasn't— He didn't mean— He wasn't going to take the baby full-time, was he? Not now, not when they finally had a chance to make a real relationship. Not before his eighteenth birthday!

"But how— when did Lupin ask you?"

Harry described that night at Shell Cottage, Lupin's jubilation, the way the news lifted everyone's spirits and took them away from the war for a little while.

"I'm just— I want to be there for him. Sirius didn't get the chance to do that for me until I was thirteen. Well, I guess you could say he never had the chance to really be my godfather. Not the way we wanted."

Ginny sat quietly, hoping Harry would go on. He almost never mentioned Sirius except to relay some anecdote of their time at Grimmauld Place.

"Did you know he asked me to move in with him?"

"Sirius did?"

Harry nodded. "The night Pettigrew escaped. When we were going back to the castle, when Pettigrew was still tied up and we thought we could clear Sirius's name, he offered to let me come and live with him, if I wanted." It was obvious from his voice that he had wanted that more than anything.

"At Grimmauld Place?"

"I don't think so. I think he meant somewhere new. Maybe somewhere close to Remus."

Ginny's throat ached. Harry had lost so very, very much. She swallowed.

"But Teddy has a home, right? I mean, I'm sure Mrs. Tonks will want to raise him."

"I reckon so. But I want to help. Maybe take him to the zoo, or babysit over the weekend. When he's a little older."

She took a slow, quiet breath, feeling some of the immediate anxiety leave her. "That sounds nice. She's a lot older than most mums. I'm sure she would appreciate a break now and then."

The wind kicked up and Ginny shivered. Harry noticed and stood up.

"It's cold out here. Let's go in."

"I'm all right." She preferred staying out here with Harry where she could think about something else, talk about something else. Once she went to bed, thoughts of Fred filled her mind, and when she tried to think about other things, her brain just shifted between various bodies in the Great Hall. With the funeral tomorrow, she knew tonight would be worse, like some sick game of musical chairs that never ended.

But Harry reached down and pulled her up. Ginny went with him into the house, unable to explain that the cold followed her everywhere she went.


	9. Chapter Eight

A/N: To the guest reviewer (Sara) who corrected me about using Fahrenheit: thank you! I smacked myself in the forehead pretty hard for that one. I try to be conscious of British/American differences, and as a nurse and a previous visitor to England, I should have known better. It's all fixed now :)

Brace yourselves, people. This chapter and the next are pretty heavy.

* * *

Harry was not surprised to find no one eating when he entered the kitchen the morning of Fred's funeral. Ginny stood at the stove, frying bacon and eggs even though the platters on the table were untouched. The morning dragged interminably, and no one even attempted lunch. Shortly after one, Harry, Hermione, the Weasley children, and Fleur waited in the sitting room for Mr. and Mrs. Weasley to come down the stairs. When they appeared at last, Harry noticed Mrs. Weasley wore the midnight blue hat Fred and George had given her for Christmas two years before.

They left the little house and walked through the garden, past the orchard to the open field beyond where rows of white chairs were lined up in front of a casket, beside which stood the tufty-haired wizard who had presided at Dumbledore's funeral and Bill and Fleur's wedding. Like both of those events, it was a glorious day: clear sky and shining sun. Harry felt it was an insult and a tribute all at once. With Fred dead, the whole world should be mourning; but yet, it was for Fred, and he had always brought light and sunshine and laughter wherever he went, so the sky could do nothing but smile on them.

The seats filled quickly. Harry saw many familiar faces: Lee Jordan, Angelina Johnson, and Alicia Spinnet, fellow Gryffindors in Fred's year. Oliver Wood and Katie Bell from Quidditch. Professor McGonagall, Professor Sprout, Professor Flitwick, Hagrid, Madame Hooch, and even Nearly Headless Nick from Hogwarts. Shopkeepers from Diagon Alley. Mr. Perkins, the wizard who had worked with Mr. Weasley in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office. Kingsley Shacklebolt. Mrs. Tonks with Teddy. Neville and his grandmother. Hestia Jones, Mundungus Fletcher, and Elphias Doge, fellow members of the Order of the Phoenix. Amy Green, who had come all the way from Egypt. Luna and Mr. Lovegood. Mr. and Mrs. Diggory. Harry saw a long row of DA members and realized the rest of the guests were blurred not due to their distance from him, but his tears. He faced forward again. Beside him, Ron sat impossibly straight, and on his other side, Ginny and Hermione held hands.

It was a long service, made longer still by the moving speech from Lee, George's near collapse halfway through that resulted in Charlie and Ron each supporting him under one arm, and Mrs. Weasley's uncontrollable sobs as the casket was closed over Fred's body. Beside him, Harry could feel Ron shaking with his own tears as Charlie escorted George from the clearing. Bill had his arm round Percy's shoulders, their heads bent close together, and Harry was glad he was still sitting when Ron turned and flung himself onto his shoulder. Harry swallowed his own grief, patting Ron on the back and wondering what to do next, when Hermione stepped over Ginny and wedged her way between him and Ron.

"Come on, Ron, let's go," Hermione said, and Harry could tell from her voice that she was crying too. "It's over now, let's go, love. I've got you, that's it…."

Harry knew before he turned round that Ginny was gone.

()()()()

"Mum?" Ginny opened the door to her parents' bedroom and peered round it. "Mum, can I come in? It's Ginny."

Ginny had not seen her mother since the very end of the— she closed her eyes and made herself think it— since the end of Fred's funeral, when her mother had broken down and her father had carried her away. It was the singularly most awful day of Ginny's life: worse than the Chamber, worse than seeing Harry land in front of the maze with Cedric's body, somehow even worse than the day of the Battle, when Fred had died. She had known her brother was dead, had cried over his body, but still, there was something so permanent— so _final_— about a casket in a grave. She shook herself slightly and took a couple of steps into the room.

"Mum? I fixed you some tea and toast." She set the tray on her mother's beside cabinet and sat on the edge of the bed. Mum was awake, lying on her side, staring at nothing. The weight in Ginny's stomach morphed from grief to fear.

"Mum? It's me, Ginny." She shook her shoulder gently, then bent down into her line of sight. "Mummy?"

Mum's eyes moved slightly to focus on her face. "Ginny."

"Yes, Mummy, it's me." Ginny smiled and reached for the cup and saucer. "I brought you some tea. Can you sit up?"

Mum blinked once, twice. "Is it tea time already?"

Ginny forced the fear down with a hard swallow. "It's after dinner, actually. Come on, let's sit up." She rearranged the pillows and helped Mum into a sitting position, relieved when a few sips of tea put a little color into her face.

"Come sit beside me," Mum said, patting the middle of the bed, and Ginny complied. "How are you?"

"I'm okay."

Mum set down her tea and began stroking Ginny's hair, just like when she was a little girl. Ginny allowed herself to lean into her mother's embrace and closed her eyes. Maybe she would stay here, with Mummy, just for a little while….

()()()()

It was over. The longest week of Bill's life, the wait for his brother's funeral, was finally over. The dozens of guests had left, Mum and Dad were in their room, and his siblings were clumped in the kitchen, silent and miserable. He had sent Fleur home to Shell Cottage straight after dinner, and Harry and Hermione had been tactful enough to disappear. Bill gathered up all the Firewhisky in the sideboard, stacked six glasses onto his palm, and walked through the kitchen and straight out the back door without stopping. Turning on the spot, he landed on the Burrow's roof. With a series of _pops_, his brothers joined him.

Bill was pouring the third—or was it the fourth?—round when Ginny appeared. It was not the extra glass held out for refilling that caught his attention, although it should have been (he only had four brothers now), but rather the delicate hand holding it. He followed the hand up a graceful arm into the set, tearstained face of his baby sister. She had Mum's eyes, but Godric, she looked like the twins.

"He was my brother too."

Bill felt a twinge of guilt. He had chosen the roof because he couldn't stand to be confined inside the house tonight, but Ginny couldn't Apparate yet and might think he was deliberately trying to exclude her. He glanced round, wondering how she got up here, and noticed her broomstick in her other hand. She shoved the shot glass against his chest.

"Don't even think about trying to keep up," he warned, and poured a shy finger of amber liquid.

She tossed the entire thing back in one go, choked, coughed, and held her glass out again. Against his better judgement, Bill refilled it. Ginny propped her broomstick against a chimney and sat down on Ron's lap.

"Fleur asked me if you and Amy were sleeping together," Bill said to Charlie, wanting to avoid any mention of Fred. Maybe sometime, at some point, they could gather here and remember him, but not tonight. Not when the wooden box and the hole in the ground floated in the forefront of Bill's memory no matter where he looked.

Charlie snorted. "Bet she asked you first."

Bill did not miss the smirk that passed amongst his other siblings at the comment.

"You didn't answer my question."

"You didn't ask one." Charlie took a drink. "But no, we're just friends."

"That's what you said about Tonks, and we all know that was a lie," George said.

Bill had an uneasy feeling George was not going to be a friendly drunk.

"Shut it, George." Charlie's voice was calm but had a steely note, and George was not yet drunk enough to ignore it.

"Ginny's never been on the roof, and she's not yet seventeen," Percy said quickly, falling right back into his role as peacekeeper between the oldest boys and the—

Bill swallowed. And George.

"Shouldn't there be some sort of, I don't know, admission fee?" he continued.

"Hey!"

"An excellent idea," Ron said.

"Hey!" Ginny protested again, punching Ron in the arm.

"All right, Gin-Gin," Bill said. "Tell me something I don't know."

"That won't be hard," George said under his breath, and received a kick from their baby sister.

"A secret that you've been keeping from me," Bill clarified. He saw George grimace and rub his thigh when Ginny turned her attention away from him.

Ginny rubbed her thumb up and down the side of her shot glass, thinking. Then her face lit up, and Bill knew she was going to turn this against him, the little imp.

"Do you remember, when you and Charlie came home from Hogwarts, how I would come into your room after lights out?"

Bill and Charlie both nodded. She had been such a cute little thing in pigtails and flowered nightdress (Mum's choice, not Ginny's), usually carrying a once-white unicorn and invariably falling asleep in one of their beds. Most of the time they carried her back to her room, but sometimes they let her stay.

"I wasn't always asleep." She grinned.

Bill and Charlie groaned, but Percy and Ron leaned forward.

"What did you hear?" Ron said.

"Enough to know Charlie and Tonks were more than friends," she teased, but the smile she sent Charlie had more than a little sympathy.

Charlie took another drink. Tonks and Remus's funeral was tomorrow.

"And one time, they borrowed one of Mum's—"

"Get her!" With Percy and Charlie between him and Ginny, Bill was too far away.

Ron, who still had Ginny in his lap, started tickling her, and Ginny's shrieks of laughter and feeble protests rang out until her brothers were laughing too.

"We used to compete to make her laugh," Percy said when Ginny finally managed to crawl off Ron's lap. "Remember?"

"You did?" Ginny said incredulously, and Bill couldn't blame her. For most of her memory, they had either been pranking her or telling her to sod off.

George nodded. "Ron was the best at it."

"I was?"

Ron still sounded as if he were amazed he had been the best at anything.

"You were virtually incomprehensible when you started to talk, but Ginny thought you were funny," Bill said. "She used to laugh at almost everything you said."

"So, nothing's changed, then," Ginny said, ducking behind George and giggling again when Ron reached a long arm towards her, fingers wiggling.

If only that were true.


	10. Chapter Nine

Harry shuffled forward in line, Ginny beside him with a death grip on his hand. They were waiting to view Colin's body and speak to his parents and brother. The service was being held in a Muggle funeral home to accommodate Colin's extended family, but Harry recognized many wizarding faces, most of them from the DA or Ginny and Colin's year. The room was fussy, formal, and hot, overlaid with the cloying sent of cut flowers.

Colin appeared perfect. Peaceful, asleep even, and painfully young. His hands looked oddly empty without his camera. Harry felt the lump in his throat, the burning behind his eyes, and coughed. Ginny sniffled, and he put his arm round her.

When Dennis saw Ginny, he latched onto her like a lifeline. Harry extended his hand towards the middle-aged woman standing beside Dennis, but it was Colin's father who took it.

"I'm Harry Potter. I— I went to school with Colin. He … I'm so sorry for your loss."

The man, eyes red-rimmed and blank, nodded mechanically, and Harry stepped back slightly as Ginny introduced herself to Mrs. Creevey. The woman seemed to recognize her name, for she pulled Ginny into a firm embrace.

"He was a wonderful friend," Ginny said, managing a smile. "So excited and enthusiastic about everything. I'm going to miss him."

"Harry."

It was Dennis, and Harry turned to face him with not a little dread. But Dennis had his hand outstretched and gave no indication of jinxing Harry.

"Dennis." Harry shook his hand, wishing he could do something more. "I'm so sorry…."

Dennis nodded. "We had been watching our DA galleons all year, following the gang at school as they sent messages to each other, trying to figure out what was going on. Then Colin got Neville's message about you being back, and—" His voice cracked. "He was of age, he turned seventeen last term, but McGonagall made me leave with the others. I wanted to stay, but Colin— he was already mad that I'd followed him through the Floo to the Hog's Head. I should have been there."

Harry squeezed Dennis's shoulder. "There's nothing you could have done, Dennis. Colin wanted you to be safe. We sent all the under-age kids out. There's no shame in that."

Dennis nodded and accepted a hug from Hermione.

Harry and Ginny left the line and found four empty seats.

"This is awful," Ginny said, twisting her handkerchief in her lap. "We're just supposed to sit here and … do what?"

"I don't know," Harry said. "Wait for everyone to leave for the—" He swallowed. "The cemetery, I guess."

Hermione and Ron squeezed past and sat down.

"It's almost over," Hermione whispered. "We were towards the end of the line. The family will be leaving for the cars soon, then they'll close the casket and the actual memorial will take place graveside."

"Will we have time to sit through the whole service before going to Lupin and Tonks's?" Ginny said.

Hermione looked at her watch and nodded. "I think so. We can Apparate straight there."

()()()()

Charlie looked up as Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Harry joined the family in the open seats near the aisle. The four had had another funeral to attend this morning, one of Ginny's classmates. Both Ginny and Hermione were red-eyed, and the boys didn't look great, either. Charlie had lost friends in this war—two of them lay in the caskets in front of him—but none were children. None lost while he was still at Hogwarts. By all indications, Ginny had been heavily involved in Dumbledore's Army, not to mention the Muggle-borns she would have associated with during her years at Hogwarts. He looked towards his sister, wondering how many friends she had lost, and questioned yet again his decision to remain in Romania. Maybe….

The casket on his left, the one covered in yellow roses, drew his eye. Yes, Tonks had been his friend, but she had been so much more than that. Playmates even before they had started at Hogwarts, Tonks had shared his compartment on their first train ride from King's Cross, stood beside him during the Sorting Ceremony, destroyed countless magical plants as his Herbology partner, and shared more than a few detentions. She had been his first friend outside his family, his first kiss, his first lover. She was the first person he told when he got his acceptance letter from the dragon reserve, the first to admit their long-distance romance was killing their friendship, the first to write after that painful break-up.

Tonks was his first everything.

Charlie didn't pay much attention to the service. The official nattered on about her work as an Auror, spoke briefly (and uncomfortably, it seemed to Charlie) about her and Lupin's marriage, and went on to spout some rubbish about heroism that they both would have hated. Especially Remus, with his quiet manner and sly humor that was all the funnier for its unexpectedness. Charlie remembered his intense focus when on a mission, his cold determination to end Voldemort and find justice for his friends, his commitment to Harry.

Charlie glanced down the row. Remus had been Harry's last link to his parents, their last friend left alive, and now there was no one. Bill said Remus was the one who taught Harry how to cast a Patronus, and Remus had claimed it was Harry who made him see sense about Tonks and the baby.

The baby Charlie was studiously avoiding.

It had been Remus's words, even more than Bill's, that reassured Charlie about his decision to work for the Order from Romania. But still, he couldn't help wondering … if he had been just a little faster … if he had arrived at Hogwarts while Tonks and Remus were still alive, could he have prevented their deaths?

Beside him, Amy reached for his hand as the official closed the caskets. Charlie looked past her to Bill, whose face was set. Neither Bill nor Remus talked about it, but Charlie knew the two had been friends for years, even before the Order of the Phoenix was reformed. Bill had started writing to Remus the summer after Ginny was possessed, asking for his help as her Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, and when Remus wanted to announce the birth of his son, he went to Bill's house.

Charlie's gaze drifted back to Harry again, the baby's godfather, and passed over Percy. Even Percy had known and liked Lupin, his teacher for his last year of Defense Against the Dark Arts. And even though he hadn't been in the Order, Perce would remember Tonks from school, being just three years behind her and Charlie and an occasional victim of their mischief.

Tonks had befriended all the kids that summer at Grimmauld Place, but she had been thrilled to get to know Ginny. Tonks had always doted on his baby sister, but she had been too young for them to really become friends before then. The two had thought of each other as surrogate sisters, and Charlie knew the— George and Ron and Ginny and Hermione and Harry had loved Remus's lessons. Ginny, especially, had hardly talked about anything else in her letters that year. Mum and Dad had watched Tonks grow up, had worked with both Tonks and Lupin since the Order was reformed three years ago. Tonks and Lupin had been friends with everyone in his entire family.

How did you recover from a loss like that?

()()()()

Harry didn't even realize the memorial had ended until Ginny laid a hand on his arm.

Her eyes were puffy and her face damp, but her expression was clear and calm.

"She brought Teddy," Ginny said, and Harry looked over her shoulder to see Mrs. Tonks holding a blanket-wrapped bundle. "Let's go and say hello."

Somehow his desire to be a model godfather faded when confronted with a grieving, obviously protective, and presumably quite powerful member of the Black family. "It's a bad time. It's her daughter's funeral. We'll— I'll talk to her some other time. Later."

"Then let's ask her when would be a good time to stop by," Ginny said, standing up and pulling Harry with her.

They waited as Mr. and Mrs. Weasley expressed their condolences, Ginny maintaining a firm grip on Harry's arm as if she expected him to run away. Harry was forced to admit she knew him well.

"Hello, Mrs. Tonks, I'm—"

"Ginevra Weasley," the dark-haired witch said. "I remember when you were just a tiny thing, no bigger than Teddy here." She looked down at the baby in her arms and her expression softened.

"Nymphadora was the best," Ginny said. "I'm really going to miss her."

Harry wondered why Ginny used Tonks's given name when she had hated it so … maybe for Mrs. Tonks's sake, since she was the one who chose it.

Mrs. Tonks nodded. "Mr. Potter."

Was it his imagination, or had her voice chilled when she said his name?

"I— I'm so sorry."

"Thank you," she said with dignity.

"Remus— and Tonks, they— they asked me to be godfather. Teddy's godfather, I mean," Harry stammered. Of course Teddy's godfather. Who else could it be?

It wasn't Harry's imagination this time; Mrs. Tonks turned Teddy ever-so-slightly towards her bosom and wrapped her other hand across his back.

"I am aware of their wishes."

"Well, I … I never had much of a chance to be with my own godfather, and I'd like to do better by Teddy."

She finally smiled, and it eased her resemblance to Bellatrix immensely. "Sirius," she said affectionately. "He was my favorite cousin."

Harry began to feel this might work out all right. "He said the same thing about you, Mrs. Tonks," he said, remembering the conversation with his godfather in front of the tapestry of the Black family tree.

"We were hoping we might come over one afternoon to spend some time with Teddy," Ginny said. "Or you would be welcome at the Burrow if you prefer, of course."

"I think it might be good for me to get out of the house," Mrs. Tonks said, fussing with Teddy's blanket. "Molly and I used to visit when Nymphadora and the boys were small."

Ginny smiled and said nothing.

"Would Thursday be too soon?"

"Not at all," Ginny said. "Come for tea."

"I'll do that. Thank you very much, Miss Weasley."

"Whew," Harry said when Mrs. Tonks had turned away to greet the next person waiting to speak with her. "She's rather intimidating."

"She's just very proper. She may have married a Muggle-born, but she was still raised in high society, and people fall back on what's familiar when they're stressed. She's not stuck up, though," Ginny added. "I remember her being at our house. She often brought me hair ribbons or a dress for my doll. Something girly that the boys wouldn't take away from me."

"I didn't know you played with dolls," Harry said, relieved to have something less serious to talk about.

"Well, they all played Quidditch, and not one of them had any older brothers."

()()()()

It was after midnight, but Charlie had no interest in going to bed. He had buried his first love today, one day after he had buried his brother. One year after he had buried his best mate. Godric, how Fergus used to take the piss out of him and Tonks, and now…. There had been no _Charlie and Tonks_ for years, but now there was no more Tonks. No more Fergus. No more—

Charlie shook himself. This was exactly why he needed a distraction. He didn't want to sleep, to dream, to think, and with a family as big as his, surely there was someone up for a fly or a drink or a game of chess or _something_. Anything.

He passed closed doors on every landing and had just started up the last flight of stairs when he heard the soft click of a latch. A curly-haired, dressing-robe-clad witch was leaving Ron's room and had not yet seen him. _Perfect. _Charlie lounged against the wall and waited.

"Ch—" The beginning of his name sounded unnaturally loud in the silent house, and Hermione clapped her hand over her mouth, shooting a fearful look in the direction of his parents' bedroom.

"Hello, Hermione." His gaze traveled from her to his brother's bedroom door before returning to her adorably pink face. Well, well, well. Not a simple visit with her best mates, then.

"Hello." Her voice was softer than a whisper, and she didn't quite meet his eyes as she continued down the stairs towards him.

Charlie let her pass without additional comment, looking forward to harassing the hell out of his youngest brother.

He opened the door and squinted in reflex; it had been a long time since he'd been up here, and he'd forgotten Ron had redone the entire room in Chudley Cannons orange. Said fan lay in bed, eyes closed and mouth agape, apparently asleep already. An indentation from Hermione's head remained in the pillow. Charlie crossed the room and shook Ron's shoulder roughly.

He was flat on his back on the floor, Ron's forearm pressed to his throat and his wand directly between Charlie's eyes.

"Bloody hell, Charlie," Ron said, pushing himself up with what Charlie considered to be unnecessary force. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

Charlie was still processing the events that led his brain to conclude his kid brother had just got the drop on him. He sat up, rubbing his throat.

"What was that about?"

"Nine months on the run," Ron said shortly, sliding his wand back under his pillow. "You're lucky it wasn't Harry. He stuns first and asks questions later."

Charlie glanced at the empty camp bed. "Where is Harry?"

Ron sighed. "I don't ask and he doesn't say."

Charlie paused, considering the implications of your best mate dating your little sister.

"Hermione says its no different than me and her, but…" Ron frowned, unconvinced.

Charlie was inclined to agree. With Ron, that is, not Hermione.

Speaking of whom…. "I saw Hermione on my way up here," he said casually.

Ron's wand reappeared with unnatural speed. "What did you say to her?"

"Nothing! Shit, calm down, will you?"

Ron did not lower his wand hand and his eyes narrowed. "I know you said something to her. What was it?"

" 'Hello, Hermione.' " Charlie couldn't keep the sarcasm out of his voice, even with a wand pointed directly in his face.

The wand shifted slightly, as if Ron were deciding whether to hex Charlie's left eye or his right. Charlie didn't even have his wand on him, and he realized suddenly how different their experiences of the war had been.

"For Merlin's sake, Ron, put your wand away. I'm just trying to take the piss."

Ron gave his wand a flick, and despite himself, Charlie flinched. He saw Ron smirk and lunged, and the two brothers wrestled for control, first Charlie on top, then Ron, then Charlie again, and as Ron wriggled out of his hold, Charlie couldn't help thinking this used to be a lot easier. He stopped holding back, but it wasn't until he slammed Ron's wrist into the wardrobe, causing the wand to drop and roll underneath it, and Charlie's head cracked against one leg of the camp bed as he dodged Ron's retaliatory elbow that they stopped, lying side by side and breathing heavily.

"Take my advice. Leave Hermione alone."

"Or what, you'll beat me up?" Charlie asked the question with insulting skepticism.

"Hermione is the best witch you've ever met. You should have seen what she did to the girl who ratted out Dumbledore's Army."

"Hermione actually hexed someone?" Charlie had a hard time picturing the goody-goody prefect doing anything less than wholesome. Then again, she had snuck up here, hadn't she?

"Harry and I wouldn't have made it without her."

"I hear you two are going on holiday."

"We're going to get Hermione's parents. She sent them to Australia to keep them safe."

Was there anything that wasn't tainted by this damn war? Still, Charlie did his best to persevere in his brotherly duty to harass and humiliate.

"Moonlit beaches, skimpy swimsuits, hotel beds three times the size of that thing…." He waved his hand at Ron's single bed.

"It's winter there, prat. Like November."

Southern Hemisphere. Right.

"Besides, it's not like that."

"Ron, if you tell me you had a girl in your bed and you didn't make a move on her, I'll castrate you myself."

Ron poked him in the ribs with his newly-retrieved wand. "I didn't say I didn't— we weren't— it's—" He took a deep breath that did nothing to return his ears to their normal pallor. "We just got together the night of the Battle, and I really care about her, and I don't want to screw it up this time."

This time? Meaning there had been a previous time with a previous screw-up? Charlie made a mental note to chat with Ginny tomorrow.

"So, you're fooling around but you haven't had sex."

"Something like that," he muttered.

"In that case, don't believe anything she says if she's cried in the last four hours."

"What?" Ron went from looking embarrassed to perplexed.

"If she says she wants to make love, don't believe her if she's cried in the last four hours. Witches are emotional and unpredictable and have a tendency to change their minds."

"You don't say."

"How long will you be gone?"

Ron shrugged, summoning bits of paper and tossing them into the bin several feet away. "No way to know. Hermione wants to be back for Harry's birthday, but she hasn't said anything to Harry in case we haven't— in case we can't make it. And she'll probably want to spend most of the rest of the summer with her parents because she's going back to Hogwarts in September."

There was more to the Australia trip than Ron was saying. Harry's birthday wasn't until the end of July; why on earth would it take nearly three months to fetch Hermione's parents? Charlie was sure the Grangers were capable of traveling home to England on their own (they'd got to Australia, hadn't they?), but both Ron and Hermione tensed up whenever it was mentioned.

"Well, goodness knows you won't get any there. McGonagall will have that place locked up tighter than Gringotts."

Ron's lips twitched. "Lucky we've busted out of there, then."

Charlie sat up. "It's true? You really broke into Gringotts?"

"We really did."

Ron grinned at him, and Charlie knew he was going to make him ask.

"And the dragon?"

"That's true too."

"_And_?"

Charlie was fascinated by Ron's description of Hermione's imitation of Bellatrix Lestrange, the trip into the vaults and the security spells they triggered, and their escape on the dragon's back.

"Damn, Ron, even I don't know anyone who has ridden a dragon. What the bloody hell were you thinking?"

He shrugged one shoulder. "No other options, were there?"

The brothers held each other's eyes for a moment.

"I guess not," Charlie said finally. "What happened to the dragon?"

Ron flung a wad of paper at him. "We jumped off when it flew low over a lake, thanks for asking."

The door opened and closed, and Harry entered the room.

"Oh, hi, Charlie."

"Charlie here was worrying about what happened to the Gringotts dragon," Ron said.

"It's a dragon. I'm sure it's fine."

Harry stepped around them and sat down on his bed. Charlie noticed how smoothly both boys—men (when the hell had that happened?)— ignored the question of Harry's whereabouts at one in the morning. He stood up.

"You, uh, you might want to check on George," Harry said to his trainers. "I—I heard him as I came up the stairs."

Heard him crying, he meant.

_Shit._

* * *

a/n: Sorry for the delay, guys. Kudos go to NiDZY, who was hoping for more about Charlie and Tonks's relationship from Charlie's POV, and that gave me the idea for switching around the funeral scene. See what cool things can happen when you review? Thanks to **MandyinKC** for letting me borrow Fergus Wood as Charlie's best mate. He appears in her Oliver Wood/Katie Bell fic _Pictures of You_. Let's do some more **story recs**, what do you say?

In addition to _Pictures of You_, which features a delightfully developed cast of minor HP characters, Mandy also has a WIP called _A Very Weasley Christmas_ (including Fergus and Tonks in Charlie's chapter), and if that's still not enough Weasleys for you (when is it ever?), check out _The Year of the Weasley Scarves_. If you need more Christmas, **My Dear Professor McGonagall **is working on twelve Christmas one-shots for each of the twelve Weasley grandchildren masterfully titled _The Twelve_ (Weasleys and Christmas and babies, what's not to like?). She also did a Christmas piece last year focusing on the Weasleys' first Christmas after the war, _Twelve Days_.

**From _moi_:** I wrote _Comfort and Joy Gone Astray_ as an outtake of this story; _Changing Her Mind_ could be considered a Ron/Hermione outtake of sorts, and let's not forget about _The Weasley Christmas Song List_ from 2011. In fact, *drumroll* the WCSL has a sequel-uh, I just realized I haven't named this fic yet-but anyway, I'll be publishing that in the next few days for anyone who wondered what happened with Percy and Audrey. *waggles eyebrows* _Observations of Success_ is another of my Christmas-themed one-shots, and if you want to get a jump on New Year's, _Many a Weary Foot_ won first place in the 2012 Happy New Year Competition.

I think it goes without saying that if you read and enjoy any of the fics I recommend, I expect you to leave the author a review, yeah? Okay, I won't mention it then ;)


	11. Chapter Ten

A/N: Now that you've hung with me through the funerals, I'm happy to say this chapter has a large dose of H/G :) Also, _The Weasley Christmas Song List_ sequel that I promised is up: _The Story I Must Tell_.

Harry's quote of the prophecy is directly from: Rowling, J. K. _Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. _Bloomsbury: London, 2003. p. 741.

Merry Christmas!

* * *

Harry, Hermione, and the Weasleys were halfway through dinner the next day (without Mrs. Weasley or George) when Mr. Weasley spoke.

"Kingsley wants to have one last meeting of the Order," he said. "Wrap things up, tie off a few loose ends. We've set it for tomorrow evening at six. Ginny, can you fix dinner? If your mother still isn't feeling well," he added hastily.

"I— of course I can, Daddy. The boys will help, won't you?"

There was a round of nods and general agreement, even from Percy, who had tensed up at the mention of the Order, and the family finished the rest of the meal in silence. Ginny prepared a tray for her mother, and as soon as Mr. Weasley left to carry it up to her, Ginny collapsed into a chair.

"How am I going to cook dinner for the whole Order? How many people is that, anyway? I can't cook a dinner for that many people!"

"You've done it before," Harry said reasonably. "Ever since we stopped meeting at Grimmauld Place."

"No, I didn't! Mum cooked and I helped. She decided what to make, and how much of everything, and— oh, Merlin, I'll have to go to the market."

"Relax, Ginny, we'll help," Charlie said as he carried dishes from the table to the sink.

"You can't help! You'll be no help at all. When have you ever cooked for that many people?"

"Well, then, tell Dad you can't do it," Ron said, filling the sink with water and adding dish soap. After so many years of doing it the Muggle way, it seemed more habit than anything.

Percy picked up a towel to start drying.

"I can't do that! We can't do that. We've hosted the Order ever since the Order moved out of Grimmauld Place. Hell, Mum hosted the Order _in_ Grimmauld Place."

"That's what I just said," Harry said, but Ginny ignored him.

"What was Dad thinking," she moaned.

"Probably that since we make up half the Order, it wouldn't be fair to ask anyone else to cook for us," Charlie said, transferring the leftover food into storage containers.

"We could ask Fleur for help," Hermione said tentatively. "She cooked for all of us when we were at Shell Cottage."

To Harry's surprise, this suggestion actually made Ginny hesitate.

"Well … I've been shopping with Mum my whole life. I'll just buy twice as much as I think we need, and if it's still not enough, maybe Fleur and Hermione can magic it."

()()()()

Ginny winced at the sound of angry voices. Other than that night on the roof and Tonks and Lupin's funeral yesterday, George had not been out of his room since—since—

_Since we buried Fred._

Dad carried trays up at mealtimes that remained untouched, Charlie and Bill had each knocked on the door, but George refused to answer. Ron just went upstairs to try to talk to him, but George was yelling at him—through the door, from the sound of Ron's swearing.

He reappeared in the sitting room and sat down on the sofa next to Hermione, who laid her hand on his knee.

"He doesn't have to be such a git about it," Ron said. "We miss him too."

"He just needs time, Ron," Hermione said soothingly. "He's not really angry with you."

Ginny left her brothers debating how long to leave George alone and climbed the stairs, stopping in her room to retrieve her wand. Speaking quietly so her voice wouldn't carry through George's bedroom door, she released the locking and Imperturbable Charms and walked in.

"What the bloody hell is wrong with you lot! Are you deaf? I said bug—" George stopped shouting at the sight of her. He lay back on the bed and rolled to face the wall. "Bugger off, Ginny. I'm fine."

Ginny didn't argue. She closed the door, reset the privacy charms, stepped over the dress robes he had left crumpled in the floor, and climbed onto the bed. Startled, George turned towards her, and she ducked under his arm and rested her head on his chest, one arm wrapped round his waist. He stiffened but didn't push her away, and as Ginny lay there, silently holding her brother, he gradually relaxed. Not until she felt his arm go slack behind her, his breathing slow and even under her cheek, did she let the tears fall.

()()()()

Harry was already flying when Ginny arrived in the orchard that night. She had nicked a skein of yarn from her mother's stash (from the looks of things, Mum wasn't going to be using it anytime soon), pulled and twisted and generally mutilated it until it was roughly spherical (she sincerely hoped she was nowhere around when Mum did try to wind this into a ball), and sent it into the air with a flick of her wand. Ever the Seeker, Harry saw the movement in his peripheral vision, caught it, and drew up short, waiting for her to join him.

"You want to run Chaser drills?" he asked, tossing the makeshift Quaffle from hand to hand.

"If you don't mind."

"I don't mind." And before he had even finished speaking, he gave the wad of yarn a heave, and Ginny raced after it.

She needed the distraction, needed something to concentrate on, because all she had been able to think about this evening was how many more people should be coming to dinner. Fred. Tonks. Lupin. Moody. Dumbledore. Sirius. Even Snape, apparently. The anger and the grief rose and swelled inside her until she had to move, had to do something. Ever since she'd been a little girl, her nighttime flights had been her escape, her chance to flee the smothering protection of her mother and brothers. She made all the passes Harry sent her, scooping the Quaffle just above the ground, snagging it before it flew into tree branches, chasing it in a steep climb as Harry used a repelling jinx to send it high into the air. She turned and spun and pivoted, dived and accelerated and caught until she was panting with the effort and damp with sweat, until her tears ran out and the wind blew her cheeks dry. When she snagged the threads of yarn on her fingers and they came apart in her hands, she wound the yarn round her arm, and Harry joined her on the ground.

"You're an amazing flyer, Ginny. McGonagall will make you Quidditch Captain for sure."

"Do you think so?" she said, trying to keep the hope out of her voice. Ginny hadn't been particularly disappointed not to make prefect in fifth year, but she couldn't lie. If there wasn't a Captain's badge in her Hogwarts letter this year, this last year, she would be crushed.

She stopped, horrified. How could she even think such a thing? Fred was dead— her own brother!— and she was worried about her status in a _game_?

"Ginny? What is it?"

When she didn't respond, Harry moved to stand in front of her. "Were you … were you thinking about Fred?"

She nodded, and dammit, the tears were back.

"I imagine it would be hard to think of Quidditch and not think of Fred," he said.

Ginny nodded again, not wanting to reveal her tears by wiping them away.

Harry reached out and hooked her hair behind her ear. "Hey," he said in surprise, seeing her wet face.

"I'm sorry." She dragged her sleeve across her eyes. "I was thinking about how much I want the captaincy, and how disappointed I'll be if it goes to someone else, and then—" She felt her lip tremble and bit down on it before going on. "Then I remembered Fred, and it all seemed so stupid, and— I'm such a terrible sister!"

Harry stepped forward and put his arms round her, and Ginny leaned into his shoulder, trying to swallow back her tears but only succeeding in some jerky breathing.

"It's all right. You're trying to be strong for everyone else, trying to take care of everyone else, but you don't have to pretend with me."

Ginny dropped her broomstick and the stupid yarn Quaffle and held on to Harry. She _had_ been trying to be there for her family, to keep everyone fed and the laundry done and all the thousand and one things her mother managed so effortlessly. And she was terrified of this dinner tomorrow.

"I'm not as good at it as she is," she said into Harry's neck. "Mum makes it look so easy, and I've been trying really hard, but I only know how to make breakfast and sandwiches and shepherd's pie, because Mum said every British woman should know how to make a good shepherd's pie and she made me learn the summer I turned thirteen, and I can do that okay, but everyone's not going to want to eat shepherd's pie every night and I got George's and Charlie's pants mixed up in the wash and nobody's dusted the sitting room since we've been home and everyone's coming for dinner tomorrow and Mrs. Tonks is coming on Thursday and I'm going to mess it all up and make my family look bad and Daddy will be disappointed in me and Mum will be ashamed and I really don't want to cook for everyone tomorrow!"

"Nobody is ashamed of you," Harry said firmly, rubbing her back. "And nobody expects you to do everything. We already said we'd help you tomorrow. Dinner will be fine."

Ginny gulped and realized _she_ was ashamed of herself, going on like this. "I'm sorry." She wiped her nose, and Harry mercifully conjured her a handkerchief. She blew, loudly and messily, and felt herself blushing. "Sorry."

"It's all right," Harry said, drying his tearstained shirt with a quick spell. He took her hand, and they started walking along the line of apple trees. "What—what set you off?" His voice was hesitant, as if he were afraid the very question would trigger more tears.

"You did," Ginny said, then catching his expression, hurried to explain. "It's nothing bad, Harry, just—" She swallowed. It was awkward, this relationship they had. Understanding each other but knowing so little. Feeling so close across such a distance. "You made me feel safe," she whispered. "Like it was okay to talk about things, even if I got upset."

He stopped walking and turned to her, the moonlight revealing his face lit from within. "I did?"

She nodded.

"How did I do that? I mean, how can I be sure that I do it again, when you need me?"

"Oh, Harry…." Ginny squeezed his hand, hard, and willed the tears not to fall. How she longed to kiss him, really kiss him, right now. But she wanted their first kiss to be from Harry, to know he truly forgave her for the things she said in the common room.

"Ginny?"

"I don't know," she said thickly, but he looked so disappointed that she sniffed and cleared her throat and tried again. "I guess—well, you didn't ignore that I was upset, and you said I didn't have to pretend, so I knew you genuinely wanted me to tell you what was bothering me. And you said his name, Fred's, so I knew it was okay to talk about him, that it wouldn't upset _you_. And—" She squirmed a little, feeling her cheeks heat with a blush.

"And what?"

She looked at him from the corner of her eye. He watched her intently, studying her, and her heart melted a little at how much he cared about getting this right. How much he cared about _her._ She tugged on his hand to start walking again.

"And you touched me."

His thumb rubbed the back of her hand, and he was quiet for a long time, long enough for them to reach the end of the row of trees and start back.

"You feel safe when I hold you?"

"Yes." It had always been true, ever since Harry reached down a hand to pull her up off the Chamber floor and promised her everything was all right.

He dropped her hand to put his around her waist and pull her close, and Ginny curled into his chest. If he kept this up, she wasn't going to be able to wait for him to kiss her.

"Do you want to talk about anything else?"

She needed a change of subject, to get the focus off them. "I want to hear about Snape," she said. "You still haven't told me why you think Ron and Hermione should stay for his funeral."

"He was in love with my mum," Harry said quietly.

"_Snape_?"

"From the time they were kids. He met her and my aunt Petunia at a Muggle playground. He was the one who told my mother she was a witch."

"How did you find out all this?"

He took a deep breath. "During the Battle, we were looking for Voldemort, and— do you remember how I saw into his mind in fifth year, when your dad was attacked?"

Ginny nodded.

"Well, I learned how to control it better over the last year, and I looked into his mind on purpose. He was in the Shrieking Shack."

Harry shot her a glance out of the corner of his eye, as if he were trying to decide how much to tell her. Ginny said nothing, just squeezed his hand.

"I'll have to tell you the rest of it later, after I've explained some other stuff, but Voldemort killed Snape. He— he told Nagini to attack him."

"The snake?"

"Yes. And Voldemort left the room, just left Snape lying there in his own blood, and I— I didn't know what to do."

"Were Ron and Hermione with you?"

Harry nodded. "Snape gave me his memories, and when we came back to the castle—" He swallowed. "They had— they had all the— the casualties lined up in the Great Hall, and that's when I saw Remus and Tonks, and— I just wanted to escape. I just wanted to get out of my head for a while, so I went up to Dumbledore's office to use his Pensieve."

"You saw Snape's memories of him and your mother?" Ginny whispered. That was an incredible gift for a child who had no memories of his own. It sounded nothing like the snarky, hateful Snape she had known.

"They were friends. Mum and Snape ran into my dad and Sirius on the Hogwarts Express their very first day of school, and Dad and Sirius and Snape disliked each other from the beginning. My mum wasn't particularly impressed by them either, but I think that's because my dad and Sirius were picking on her friend. That's part of the reason Snape hated my dad so much, because he had a thing for my mum. But Snape and my mum stayed friends until the end of fifth year." Harry cleared his throat. "Some pupils attacked him, but when my mum defended him, he got angry and said he didn't need help from a Mudblood."

Now _that_ sounded like Snape.

"What did your mum do?"

"He tried to apologize, but she wouldn't accept it. Said he was too involved in the Dark Arts. That's when their friendship ended, but he never stopped loving her."

"Is that why he came over to our side?"

"Yes. Snape was the one who told Voldemort about the prophecy, but—"

"Harry?" Ginny stopped walking, and he turned to look at her.

"You've never told me about the prophecy. Neville said it was broken at the Ministry."

He sighed and ran his free hand through his hair. "It was. But Professor Trelawney made the prophecy to Dumbledore, and he—"

"Trelawney? You mean she's not a fraud?"

"Not that time, at least. She spoke the prophecy to Dumbledore, so he was able to show me his memory of it in the Pensieve."

When he didn't go on, Ginny prompted him. "So, what did it say?"

Harry sighed again and dropped her hand. "Ginny…."

"What did it say, Harry?" There was no way she was letting him out of telling her this time.

He looked away, towards the village. " 'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches … born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies … and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not … and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives.' "

Either must- Neither can- Ginny stared in shock. She had known it was bad, had known there was some magical connection between Harry and Voldemort, but this….

"When did Dumbledore tell you?"

"That night. After we left the Ministry of Magic."

She groaned. "You found out you were destined to kill Voldemort—"

"Or be killed by him," he said, as if determined to make sure she understood completely.

"Yes, I caught that part."

"I think I had known for a while. That summer, after I had time to think about it, it felt like I had always known that it would be either him or me."

"Well, now I know why you wouldn't tell me last year."

It was the closest they had come to fighting during those glorious weeks of spring, when Ginny had asked Harry what he knew, what he and Dumbledore were talking about during their meetings.

"I didn't want to upset you."

"Merlin, Harry, it's over now, and I know you're safe, and still…."

"I'm sorry."

Ginny reached for his hand again. "No. This is important. If we're going to be together, I need to know. I need you to be honest with me, even when it's painful. For either of us."

Harry looked uncertain.

"Look, Harry, everything with Voldemort is a huge part of who you are. It's shaped you— it's shaped both of us. I don't want to be left out. It's not fair for Ron and Hermione to know things I don't. Not if you want us to have a real relationship."

And he did want that, right? He had agreed to give them a chance.

He scuffed a toe in the grass. "I know. It's just hard to talk about sometimes. And I don't want you to…."

"Nothing you tell me is going to change how I feel about you, Harry," Ginny said, tugging on his hand to get him to look up at her.

"But you don't know—"

"I don't care. Do you hear me? I. Don't. Care. If you can like me after what happened with Tom, then—"

"But that wasn't your fault!"

Ginny raised her eyebrows and Harry smiled sheepishly.

"All right?" she asked.

He nodded. "I'll try."

"Okay. So, Trelawney made this prophecy about you defeating Voldemort, and Snape found out and told him?"

"Snape was eavesdropping, and he only heard the first part of the prophecy. He didn't know it referred to me. When he found out that Voldemort was coming after me and my parents, he went to Dumbledore, and that's when he turned spy for the Order. Snape asked Voldemort to spare her life, but Mum wouldn't give up. Voldemort kept telling her to stand aside, but she wouldn't move from in front of my cot…."

Ginny wondered how he knew that but said nothing.

"That's how I survived, that night in Godric's Hollow. It's ancient blood magic. My mum gave her life for mine, and that's why I had to stay with the Dursleys. Because Aunt Petunia was my mother's blood relative, my staying with her sealed the spell. Voldemort couldn't attack me there until either I came of age or no longer called her house my home."

"I wish I'd known that. I hated seeing you go back there every summer, especially when you loved being at the Burrow so much."

"I owe your parents a lot."

"Don't be ridiculous. We're happy to have you. Any imagined debt has long since been repaid."

They picked up their broomsticks and the ruined skein of yarn and began walking back to the Burrow.

"What about Dumbledore's murder?"

"He arranged it with Snape beforehand. Remember Dumbledore's hand, how it was black and withered that year?"

Ginny nodded. "It looked awful. Like it had already died."

"That's kind of what happened. It was a curse, trapped in his hand, but Dumbledore was dying slowly. He didn't want Malfoy to be responsible for his death, and he asked Professor Snape to kill him if he had a chance."

Ginny smiled.

"What's so funny?"

"You call him 'professor' now. You never used to do that."

"Oh. Well, it seems appropriate. He saved my life more than once, and he tried to save my mother's."

"Are you upset with Hermione for not staying for the funeral?"

Harry shrugged. "She wants to see her parents. I can understand that."

Yes, if anyone would understand the sacrifice Hermione had made, it would be Harry.

"Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you for telling me."

They were at the back door, but neither reached for the handle. Harry watched her. His face was in shadow, but he was looking directly at her, and Ginny had the same itchy feeling between her shoulder blades that she'd experienced so many times during her fifth year. She put her hand on his cheek, and when he didn't turn away from her, brushed his mouth with hers.

"Goodnight, Harry."


	12. Chapter Eleven

A/N: Happy New Year, everyone!

* * *

Harry lay on his camp bed thinking about Ginny. He had told her about the prophecy, and she hadn't run away screaming. Of course, she knew now how it ended. But she had held his hand and listened, and he had seen the tears in her eyes when he talked about his mum refusing to move out of the way. Ginny just— she just let him talk, even encouraged him to talk, and Harry found it was a relief for her to know. He wondered if telling her other things, about the Horcruxes and the other times he had been in Voldemort's mind, would make him feel relieved too.

She had kissed him. They hadn't really— well, they hadn't _really_ kissed since last summer. She had kissed him once, that first night he had gone looking for her and found her flying in the orchard, but that was just a peck, really. A chaste thank-you. Tonight was— not a friendly kiss, exactly, more like … like the way you might kiss someone if you weren't sure they wanted to kiss you back. Soft, and tentative, and—

Wait a minute. Did Ginny think he might not want to be with her, might not be receptive to kissing her? Because he wanted very much to go back to the way things had been when they were together at Hogwarts, when they were relaxed and comfortable in each other's presence, when they had kissed and touched easily. He just wasn't sure how to get there. And he worried it wasn't … appropriate, given the circumstances. What with her brother dying and all, he didn't want to seem as if he were taking advantage. Whatever Ginny said, Harry still felt responsible for Fred's death.

And what about Ginny, what did she want? He had broken up with her and left without warning and not seen or spoken to her for _nine months_. It didn't seem right to just pick back up snogging in the sunshine. But she said she wanted to start over. "Dating," she had said. Whatever that meant.

Harry thought back over the last few nights they spent together in the orchard. Ginny had reached for his hand, lain beside him with her head on his shoulder, and both times they had kissed, it had been she who initiated it. So, she wouldn't mind if he kissed her, right? Maybe not like last year, when she sometimes let him do a little more than kiss her, but—

The bedroom door opened and Ron came in. Harry jerked the covers up to his chin. Ron raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Harry decided to go on the offensive.

"Where have you been?"

"With Hermione."

"She's not sleeping up here tonight?" Hermione continued to have nightmares about Malfoy Manor.

Ron shook his head, shucking his jeans and tossing them in the dirty laundry pile.

"How are the preparations for Australia coming?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "You know Hermione. It's like exams all over again, only it's her parents, so it's like O.W.L.s, the Ministry of Magic, and Gringotts all rolled into one. She's barking."

"Can I do anything?"

"That reminds me." Ron dug in the pockets of his just-discarded jeans and pulled out a piece of paper. "Here," he said, tossing it at Harry. "That's the address for the Australian Ministry of Magic. Hermione says you can contact us there until we get established somewhere."

"Okay." Harry used a Sticking Charm to attach the paper to the wall above his bed. "Ron, if you need—"

He held up a hand. "Bill and Charlie and Percy and George have already offered. I thought George was going to beat me upside the head with the money, actually. Said Fred would have wanted me to have it."

"I'm sure he would. Still, if you get there and need anything—"

"You'll be my first owl," Ron said, climbing into bed.

"It's the least I can do."

"Hermione is working on reversing all the charms for her parents' bank accounts and dental practice and everything. She's going to have someone come in and clean the house, but if you and Ginny could go over and make sure everything looks okay, maybe do the shopping…."

"Of course we will. Just tell us when."

Ron flicked the Deluminator, and they were quiet for a few minutes.

"You okay with flying in an airplane?"

"Don't have much choice."

"You could take a Portkey back, let Hermione travel with her parents."

Harry heard the rustle of Ron's head shaking against his pillow. "Hermione reckons her parents are going to be rather leery of magic after what she did, and I reckon she's right. I don't want to do anything to make it worse."

"You mean you don't want to do anything to make them not like you," Harry said.

"That too."

Harry wished he could reassure his best mate, but what Hermione had done … anyone else, in any other circumstance, would serve time in Azkaban.

"They're just people, Ron," Harry said. "People who care about their daughter like your parents care about you and your brothers and Ginny."

"I just don't want to do anything or say anything that will mess this up for her. She— if her parents don't forgive her, if they won't come back home, it's going to crush her."

Harry didn't want to think about it.

()()()()

Up early in preparation for attending several funerals today, Harry was just serving himself breakfast when George walked into the kitchen dressed in magenta robes.

"Where are you going?" Ron said.

"To work," George said shortly.

"But it's only—"

"I haven't been into the shop in months, since before Easter." George spoke over top of his sister. "Loads of work to do."

"Surely it could wait a few more days—" Charlie began, but he dropped off at George's dark look.

"Do you want some help?" Percy said.

"Not from you."

Everyone at the table flinched. Harry had wondered if this would happen, if George would resent Percy for Fred's death, for coming back to the family the same night Fred left it.

"Well, at least have some breakfast," Ginny said quickly, standing up. "I have eggs scrambled, or do you want fried? You like them over easy, right?"

"Fred liked them over easy. I don't want breakfast, and I don't want eggs. I want to get out of here and do something."

George slammed the back door behind him, leaving Ginny standing by the stove with a hurt look on her face and Harry angry at him for the first time he could remember.

"Git," Ron muttered.

"Ron!" Ginny looked even more upset.

"He's not the only one who's grieving."

"Fred was his twin. It's different," she said, but Harry thought she sounded unconvincing.

"He was our brother too!"

"All right," Charlie said, standing up and leading Ginny back to her seat. "Let's not fight about it. We all loved Fred, and we all miss him. He and George ran the shop together. Maybe George feels closer to him there. Let's give him some space, okay?"

The siblings continued with the meal. Harry noticed no one ate much, but Ginny transferred her strawberries to Percy's plate. Percy gave her a faint smile, which she returned. Hermione leaned against Ron's shoulder. Charlie picked at his toast, and Harry wished he had just slept through breakfast.

()()()()

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Charlie, and Percy worked all through that afternoon cleaning the house and preparing for the Order dinner. Hermione had sent Percy to put fresh towels in the bathroom twenty minutes ago, but he hadn't returned. Harry assumed, having not been an Order member, that Percy simply disappeared to save his family the embarrassment of introducing him. Ginny didn't notice; she was still fretting over how many people would show up when Bill and Fleur arrived half an hour early.

"I hope you prepared for at least fifty, Ginny," Bill said in a serious voice, smirking behind her back.

But Ginny was in no mood for jokes. "_Fifty_! How did you get— Bill Weasley, that is not funny!"

"Relax, Gin-Gin," he said, taking advantage of both her hands being in pie crust dough to kiss her on the forehead. "As long as you have some food, you can magically increase the amount. Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration, right, Ron?" He winked.

"So Hermione says."

"Are you sure you can—"

"Ginny, there's enough food here to feed an army," Hermione said soothingly. "A literal army. We counted everyone we could think of, added ten more, and planned on the men eating thirds. It will be fine."

"Oh, are you making pie? I wish you had told me, Ginny, I would have brought some dirigible plums. They've just started to ripen."

"Luna! And Neville! What are you two doing here?"

"I Floo-called them yesterday," Harry said, shaking Neville's hand. "The three of you ran the DA while we were gone. You deserve to be here."

Ginny had no more time to fret over how many people were coming as the Weasleys' fireplace flared green again and again. Charlie propped open the back door as the members of the Order of the Phoenix arrived by Floo and Apparition over the next several minutes. Seeing that everyone wanted to speak with him, at least for a moment, Harry stepped outside into the garden where Bill and George were setting up tables. Harry was pleased to see Mrs. Weasley come outside; this would be the first meal she'd had with her family since arriving home from Hogwarts. There were also a few people Harry had never met before: a dark-haired and dark-eyed couple who were friends of Charlie's from Romania, and three of Fleur's friends from Beauxbatons Academy of Magic. Both Charlie and Bill shot frequent glances at the gate, and Harry wondered if Amy Green was supposed to be here too.

()()()()

Kingsley waited for almost everyone to clean their plates before he stood and called the meeting to order, sending a significant glance to Ginny, Neville, and Luna, who sat with Harry, Ron, and Hermione in the middle of one of the tables.

"This is Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, and Ginny Weasley," Harry said, loudly enough for everyone to hear. "They ran Dumbledore's Army this year, the resistance at Hogwarts. I invited them." He met Kingsley's gaze without blinking.

"It's all right, Kingsley," McGonagall said.

"Welcome," Kingsley said in his deep, slow voice, finally breaking Harry's gaze. "We also have several of our international members here tonight. Charlie and Fleur, would you—"

"Sorry, sorry, sorry I'm late!" Amy Green came flying through the garden gate with a loud squeak and a clatter, holding her robes up with one hand and a shoe in the other and looking more than a little disheveled. "My transfer point in Romania turned into a marsh invested with Dugbogs." She glared in Charlie's direction, and Harry noticed several bloody bites on her feet and ankles as she replaced her sandal.

"I told you, if you don't want to end up in the marsh, be sure to Apparate to point eight-nine-two, not eight-two-nine," Charlie said.

"Next time, don't tell me what _not_ to do," Amy retorted, dropping her robes and running her hand through her hair, or attempting to; her fingers caught in a snarl at the back of her head. Muttering under her breath, she gave her long hair a series of quick twists and shoved her wand through the dark mass to hold it in place before taking an empty seat at the very end of Harry's table. "Again, my apologies," she said. "Please continue." She folded her hands in her lap and smiled sweetly at Kingsley.

"Charlie and Fleur, please introduce your guests."

Introductions and pleasantries aside, Kingsley called for Professor McGonagall to share the plans for the rebuilding of Hogwarts.

"As many of you are aware, volunteers have been arriving at Hogwarts day by day and are working in various areas of the castle and grounds. Mr. Filch has an extensive list of volunteers who will be contacted by owl post over the next two days to develop a more organized schedule. The staff has covered the castle with reinforcement and stabilizing charms, and we are hopeful these will hold so the castle can be repaired in sections. We have also been working on the staff's living quarters. Group cleanup will begin on Saturday, continuing with the Entrance and Great Halls and the hospital wing. The Ministry is reviewing architects' bids, and we hope to have someone hired to supervise the project by next week. Due to damage from the giants, the library's archives are too unstable to enter right now—"

Hermione gave a little moan.

"So we have obtained copies of the architectural plans of the castle from the Ministry. However, these do not cover the castle's towers or anything below the level of the Entrance Hall, so we will need volunteers from all houses to complete these sections. If any of you know someone with magical construction experience who would be willing to supervise the volunteers, please see me after the meeting."

"Thank you, Minerva. Aberforth, an update on Voldemort, please."

Harry exchanged looks with Ron and Hermione. He couldn't believe they hadn't noticed that Voldemort's name was not on the list of scheduled funerals that appeared in the_ Daily Prophet_ last Friday.

The Hog's Head barman stood up and addressed not Kingsley, but Harry. "Voldemort's body was buried last week beside his father in the cemetery at Little Hangleton under the name Tom Riddle Junior. That information has not been released to the press, nor will it be." He looked away from Harry to glare at each person present before sitting down.

"The hunt for fleeing Death Eaters continues," Kingsley said. "We have sent requests for cooperation to every country in the International Confederation of Wizards, and the Wizengamot hopes to begin trials soon. Those of you who have personal knowledge of Death Eaters currently in custody can expect to receive summons to testify. I have also nominated each of you, and those members who are no longer with us, for Orders of Merlin, Third Class, and I expect this to be approved without difficulty. I have heard nothing but praise and gratitude for all of you over the last ten days, and it has been my privilege to serve with each and every one of you." Kingsley paused to look round the group. "At this time I'm opening the floor for any new business."

Mr. Diggle raised his hand and stood at Kingsley's nod. "Hestia and I are planning to bring the Dursleys home this weekend. I stopped by their house this evening, and it could use some sprucing up before their return. Mr. Potter, how would you like to handle that?"

"Er—" Harry had no desire to ever step foot on Privet Drive again. "I guess I could.… "

"I'll volunteer," said Neville. "If that's okay with you, Harry."

"Thanks, Neville. But they're Muggles. There should be someone with you who knows—"

"I can help with that," Mrs. Figg said. "I'll make sure everything in the house is working properly. I've been having my nephew mow the grass. I'll ask him to come by on Friday, and you can bring them home on Saturday, Dedalus. Does that work for you, Mr. Longbottom?"

"Friday's fine," Neville said.

"I'll help too, Harry," Luna said, and there were multiple offers from every table.

"That's settled then," Mr. Diggle said, and resumed his seat.

"I have something." Harry stood up. "Not all of you were there at the end, and you deserve to know the truth. I have irrefutable evidence that Severus Snape was a genuine member of the Order of the Phoenix." There was quiet rustling and murmuring from the group, and Harry waited for it to die down. "He was on our side the whole time. Dumbledore planned his death with Snape. Snape told Dumbledore that Voldemort had assigned Draco Malfoy to kill him, and Dumbledore asked Snape to do it instead. He was one of Voldemort's most trusted Death Eaters, and his bravery helped us win the war."

"Anything else, from anyone?" Kingsley said. Several seconds passed. "Very well then, let's give a big round of applause to Arthur and Molly Weasley for their generous hospitality over—" The words weren't even out of his mouth before there was thunderous applause and whistling that lasted until Mr. Weasley raised his hands in acknowledgement.

"And Miss Ginny Weasley—" Another round of whistling, mostly from her brothers and Harry— "who, since she is still a few months shy of her seventeenth birthday, prepared this lovely feast for us without the use of magic." He smiled at Ginny and dropped her a wink.

Ginny blushed with pleasure as everyone joined in the applause.

When it had died down, Kingsley sobered. "Aberforth, would you do the honors?"

The old man swallowed, and Harry thought there was a glint of moisture in the piercing blue eyes. "I move that the Order of the Phoenix be disbanded."

"Seconded," McGonagall said promptly, and it was the huskiness in her voice that reminded Harry that it was Albus Dumbledore who first formed the Order, and he who must have dissolved it after that night in Godric's Hollow nearly seventeen years ago.

"All in favor?"

"Aye!"

"Any opposed?

"Motion carries."


	13. Chapter Twelve

A/N: This entire chapter takes place the same evening as the Order meeting, which is Wednesday, May 13th.

* * *

Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione, along with Luna and Neville, were clearing the tables when Kingsley approached them.

"I need to speak to you three," he said, indicating Harry, Ron, and Hermione. "Privately, please."

"Everyone who is using the Floo will be queueing in the kitchen," Ron said. "I'll let Dad and Mum know we need to use the sitting room."

Ron spoke briefly with his parents, who were still chatting with the others at their table, before leading the way around the crooked house and through the front door.

Kingsley seated himself in the armchair and waited for Harry, Hermione, and Ron to wedge themselves onto the sofa.

"I have spoken with Gawain Robards, and the Ministry of Magic is prepared to waive the usual N.E.W.T. requirements and offer each of you positions in the Auror Academy with this year's class beginning one August."

Harry felt Hermione go rigid beside him and looked past her to Ron, who looked vastly more excited about Kingsley's offer than he had about Professor McGonagall's.

"That's very generous, Minister," Hermione said, "but we—"

"We'll take it," Harry said. "At least, Ron and I will."

"But—" Hermione sputtered.

"Is that true, Mr. Weasley?"

Ron didn't look at Hermione. "Yes. If I can become an Auror without having to go back to school, then I say yes."

"Miss Granger?"

She looked from Ron to Harry, both of whom avoided meeting her eyes. "I—" She swallowed. "It's a very gracious offer, Minister, but I've never wanted to be an Auror. Professor McGonagall is giving us the opportunity to come back to Hogwarts, and I want to finish my education."

"That's perfectly understandable," Kingsley said. "I'm sure you can have your pick of assignments next summer." He smiled kindly at her and stood up.

Harry and Ron allowed Hermione to stand first, which gave them room to get up.

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, I'll tell Robards to expect you—"

"In September," Harry said firmly.

Kingsley looked taken aback, and Ron turned to Harry in surprise.

"I think we've earned some time off. We'll enjoy the summer, see our girlfriends off to Hogwarts, and join the Academy on the second of September."

Harry crossed his arms and tried to look as resolute as he felt. It must have worked, for Kingsley nodded. "Very well then. I will tell Robards to expect you on the second of September. Your appointment papers will be sent by owl post." He shook hands with each of them and left the Burrow.

"Blimey, Harry," Ron said as soon as the door closed. "September?"

"We have earned the time off."

"We bloody well have," Ron agreed. "But are you sure you want to start a month behind everyone else? We'll have all that catch-up work to do, and I imagine more than a few hard feelings about special treatment."

"Well then, you start in August if you're so worried about it," Harry said. "I don't want to do _anything_ for a while."

That wasn't entirely true; Harry would be quite content to spend the next three and a half months doing whatever Ginny wished, and from the look Ron was giving him, Harry suspected Ron knew it. Time to shift his focus.

"Hermione?"

She stood with her back to them, gazing out the window with her arms wrapped round herself. "I can't believe you two don't want to go back."

"Then you weren't paying attention the first six years," Ron said. "You're the one who likes school, not me and Harry."

She turned to face them, and both boys were alarmed to see she was close to tears. Harry hurried across the room towards her, and Ron put an arm round her shoulders.

"But you're both smart and talented," she said. "You would pass your N.E.W.T.s with no problems, I know you would. I'd help!"

"Hermione, Ron and I wouldn't even have been able to take Potions last year if Slughorn hadn't accepted Exceeds Expectations," Harry said. "What if we went back and our marks weren't good enough? You know we've wanted to be Aurors since fourth year."

"I know, but—"

"This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance, Hermione," Ron said. "I can't turn it down. You can understand that, can't you?"

"But—" Her lip trembled, and Harry could tell she was trying to stay calm. "But I've never been at Hogwarts without either of you." Her gaze shifted from Ron to Harry and back.

And for the first time in a long time, Harry remembered the first months of their first year, when Hermione had been— well, such an prissy, overbearing know-it-all that no one had liked her, and she had spent all her time alone.

"You won't be alone," Harry said. "You'll be in Ginny's year— and Luna's! You know lots of seventh years from the DA."

"But I want you to come with me," Hermione said, and this time she looked up directly into Ron's face.

Harry slipped out the front door unnoticed.

Most of the Order members had left. Amy was talking with Bill, Fleur, Charlie, and the other international guests, and Harry saw Professor McGonagall hug Mrs. Weasley before walking in his direction.

She pulled something out of her pocket, and Harry recognized the flask Hermione had conjured in the Shrieking Shack.

"Your irrefutable evidence, Mr. Potter."

Harry took the vial of memories. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," McGonagall said. She studied him for a moment, then said, "I'm not going to see you in September, am I?"

He shook his head.

She extended her hand but didn't let go when Harry shook it, instead bringing her left hand up to clasp his hand between both of hers. "It has been a privilege, Harry."

"For me too, Professor."

Harry watched her go, a little sad at the realization that no more school meant no more of some of his favorite people, as well. To dispel that thought, he turned back to the tables. Ginny had a stack of plates in her left arm and was wrapping her right around a large serving dish.

"Here, let me get that," Harry said, levitating them with his wand. "You get the cutlery."

Harry continued floating items into the kitchen as Ginny started washing up.

"What did Kingsley want to talk to you about?" Ginny said as Harry carefully lowered the last load onto the cluttered kitchen table.

Would Ginny have the same reaction as Hermione? Was she expecting him to come back to Hogwarts with her in the autumn?

"He offered me, Ron, and Hermione places in the Auror Academy. Without our N.E.W.T.s."

"That's great, Harry! When do you start?"

He looked up, surprised.

"You did say yes, didn't you?"

"Well, yes, but—"

"You've always wanted to be an Auror," Ginny said, setting a plate aside to be rinsed and starting on another one. "And you loved Hogwarts because it gave you friends and a place to belong, not because you loved school. Although you did well enough," she added, smiling.

This was one of the many wonderful things about Ginny, the way she understood without having to be told.

"He wanted us to start with the rest of the class in August, but I said we were taking the summer off."

"Really?" A third plate slid out of her grasp with a splash as she turned to face him fully. She blushed slightly. "I'm glad. I like having the extra time with you."

Harry smiled back. "Me too."

"So, when do you start?" Ginny turned back to the sink.

Someday he was going to have to tell her how adorable he found her when she was embarrassed, and maybe then she would stop hiding it from him.

"The second of September. I want to see you off to Hogwarts." As he hoped, this earned him another radiant smile.

"Is Ron waiting too?"

"I think so. Hermione's disappointed that we're not going back with her."

Ginny grimaced. "I tried to warn her that I didn't think you would, but she's been so stressed about her parents…."

"Do you know how her meeting went with McGonagall and Flitwick today?" Harry began rinsing and drying.

"Not really. She started to tell me about it before dinner, but then everyone came in to help, and…." She shrugged.

"I was glad to see your mum outside," he said tentatively, unsure if this was an okay topic.

"So was I," Ginny said, her relief obvious. "I've been really worried about her. She's hardly eating at all."

"I'm sure … maybe in a few days…." Harry didn't know what to say. Exactly how long was normal for a mother not to appear at mealtimes after the death of her child?

But Ginny seemed to appreciate the sentiment and nodded. "I hope so. I'm hoping maybe when Mrs. Tonks comes over tomorrow, since they both— since they're both mothers, maybe she— maybe Mum will talk to her."

Since they both had lost a child, Ginny meant. "Do you think so?"

"Well, I know they used to be friends."

"I wondered … what with Bellatrix … and your mum … sisters…." Harry let his voice trail off as the realization broke over Ginny's face.

She clapped a hand over her mouth. "Oh, Merlin, my mother killed her sister!"

Harry nodded. Ginny gaped.

"But Bellatrix is the one who killed Tonks," Harry said. "Don't you think that would matter more, that she would want justice for her daughter's death?"

"Still, that's just awful," Ginny whispered. "I was thinking about her losing her husband and her daughter just a couple of months apart, but…. I mean, Bellatrix was insane, but still. And the way they're all intertwined … that's horrible."

Harry wished he hadn't said anything. "Maybe Mrs. Tonks and your mum can help each other."

"Maybe. I hope so," she repeated.

There was something else Harry had been worrying about, something not nearly so important or depressing.

"I've been thinking about tomorrow, about Teddy's visit," he said, reaching round Ginny to put some of the dishes away. "What— what are we going to do?"

"What do you mean, what are we going to do?"

"Well, with Teddy. I don't know any nursery rhymes or baby games or—"

Ginny laughed. "Oh, Harry, he's too little for games. He's what, a month old? He doesn't do anything except sleep and eat."

Harry couldn't hide his disappointment. "Oh."

"But you can hold him and talk to him so he'll learn to recognize your face and your voice," she added. "And I made a hat and booties for him. I was going to give them to Tonks, when I saw her next…."

Harry squeezed Ginny's shoulder, but his thoughts were elsewhere. "I don't have a gift for him. I should, shouldn't I? Sort of a 'welcome to the world' gift?" He had vague memories of Aunt Petunia buying gifts for various friends and Dursley relatives, but that seemed to be before the baby was born. "Or is it a gift for the mother?"

"No, it would be for the baby." Ginny unplugged the drain and wrung out the dishcloth. "You've been rather busy of late. I'm sure Mrs. Tonks doesn't expect anything."

"Still…." He wanted to do this godfather thing right.

"Well, we could go to Diagon Alley over the weekend, if you like."

"Yeah, I would. Thanks, Ginny."

"Thank you," she said, looking round at the clean kitchen. "You're the only one who stayed to help."

"I think Ron and Hermione are a bit busy." Harry smirked.

Ginny laughed. "Well, let's get our brooms and try not to find them."


End file.
